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STORY  OE  A  GEIIUS; 

COLA    MONTI. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

•*HOW  TO  WIN  LOVE,"  "MICHAEL  THE  MINER,"  ETC 


FIRST   AMERICAN    EDITION. 


NEW  YORK : 
D.  APPLETON  AND  OOMPANT, 

846    &    34S    BROADWAY. 
M.DOOO.LVn. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  FASB 

THE    NEW   PUPIL 5 

CHAPTER  n. 
A    SHOKT    ONE,   SHOWING    HOW   COLA    GOT    ON 

AT   SCHOOL 17 

CHAPTER  HI. 
cola's  revenge 23 

CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   DISCOVERT 35 

CHAPTER  V. 
HdtlDAYS   AT   SCHOOL      ...  .42 

CHAPTER  VI. 
THE   TOUNG   CARICATURIST  .  .  .  61 

CHAPTER  VII. 
COLA   MEETS   A   FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN  .         58 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  PLAN,  AND  HOW  IT  SUCCEEDED    .     .      68 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   END    OF    COLA's   SCHOOL-DAYS  .  .  .    ■»■   77 

CHAPTER  X. 
BEGINNING   THE   WORLD         ....  85 


*^  a_J  f'jMi  'O  ««->  *-* 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XL  page 

AN  OLD   FRIEND   IN   A   NEW   LIGHT  .  .         99 

CHAPTER  XH. 
HELP   IN   SEASON 109 

CHAPTER  Xni. 

LAYING   THE    FIRST   STICK   IN   THE   NEST  .       118 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

SIX   months'   HISTORY  .  .  .  •  126 

CHAPTER  XV. 

HOW  A   BRIGHT   MORNING   WALK    PRODUCED   A 

BRIGHT   THOUGHT  .  .  .  .132 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

HOW  COLA,  TRYING  HIS  FEET,  FOUND  HE  COULD 

WALK   ALONE 141 

,  CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  LECTURE   ON   HIGH   ART        ....      151 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
SHOWING  THAT  PROSPERITY  HAS   ITS   DANGERS       159 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
A  TIME   OF   DARKNESS 166 

CHAPTER  XX. 

JOY   AT   LAST 173 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE    story's    end,    BUT    THE     REAL     LIFE's 

BEGINNING        .  .  '        .  •  •  .178 


STORT    OF   A   GENIUS. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE     NEW     PtTPIL 

"  Here  is  a  new  schoolfellow  for  you,  my 
boys,"  said  Doctor  Birch,  as  he  entered  the 
playground,  where  his  "  limited  number  of 
pupils"  were  assembled,  leading  by  the  hand 
the  last  addition  to  the  flock. 

Now  Doctor  Birch,  in  spite  of  his  unfortu- 
nate name,  Avas  the  very  best  of  pedagogues. 
He  was  by  no  means  an  old  man,  for  his  doc- 
tor's honors  had  come  very  early  upon  him. 
A  tall,  awkward  frame ;  a  face  which  could 
look  severe,  and  ugly  too,  at  times,  though  it 
was  very  pleasant  when  he  smiled ;  and  an 
accent  in  which  the  strong  Northumbrian  burr 
bespoke  his  Northern  birtn,  complete  the  de- 
scription of  the  good  doctor. 

The  boy  whom  he  led  was  about  twelve 
1* 


6  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

yeara  old,  at  least  you  would  have  thought  so 
by  his  face ;  but  he  was  small,  slight,  and 
delicate  in  figure.  His  clear  skin,  of  a  pale 
olive,  had  none  of  the  ruddy  glow  which  man- 
tled on  the  cheeks  of  the  other  boys  ;  and  his 
large  dark  eyes  wandered  restlessly  from  one 
to  the  other  of  the  frolicsome  group,  whose 
game  of  leap-frog  had  thus  been  interrupted. 

"  Now,  boys,  be  kind  and  considerate  to 
this  little  fellow,"  said  Doctor  Birch.  "He 
has  never  been  to  school  before,  and  he  is 
a  stranger.  Never  mind,  my  young  friend, 
you'll  soon  get  acquainted  with  them  all," 
continued  he,  as  he  patted  the  child's  crisp 
black  curls,  and  strode  off  out  of  the  play- 
ground with  his  careless  shambling  gait. 

The  little  fellow  stood  timidly  in  the  midst 
of  his  new  playfellows,  who  gathered  round  him 
like  a  swarm  of  bees. 

"  Well,  young  one !"  said  the  biggest  boy, 
the  dux  of  the  school,  "let's  set  to  business. 
What 's  your  name  ?" 

"  Niccolo  Fiorentino  del  Monti." 

"  Eh !  Nick  what  ?"  cried  the  inquii-er,  open- 
ing  his  eyes  with  astonishment. 

"Niccolo  Fiorentino  del  Monti,"  repeated 
the  new  comer,  drawing  himself  up  with  a 


THE   NEW   PUPIL.  7 

slight  gesture  of  pride ;  and  dwelling  on  the 
soft  liquid  Italian  syllables,  as  if  he  thought  the 
name  both  honorable  and  beautiful. 

All  the  boys  set  up  a  loud  laugh. 

"  Why,  what  a  strange  fish  of  a  foreigner 
the  old  doctor  has  caught !"  cried  one. 

"  My  little  fellow,  we  shall  have  to  teach 
you  English,"  said  another,  taking  the  child  by 
the  arm.  But  Niccolo  anginly  shook  off  the 
rude  touch  ;  and  the  warm  Italian  blood  rushed 
to  his  dark  cheek,  as  he  answered  with  a  for- 
eign accent,  but  distinctly  enough  to  be  under- 
stood : — 

"  Thank  you,  I  can  speak  English  ;  my 
mother  taught  me  :  she  came  from  your 
country." 

"  Oh  !  she  was  an  Englishwoman  then," 
said  Morris  Woodhouse,  the  dux,  and  inquisi- 
tor-general over  all  new  boys.  "  And  I  sup. 
pose  she  married  some  poor  Italian  fiddler." 

"  My  father  was  no  fiddler,"  answered  Nic- 
colo, his  black  eyes  flashing  fire.  "  He  was  a 
Count,  and  his  family  were  princes  once. 
They  lived  in  a  beautiful  jmlazzo  ;  my  nurse 
Mona  used  to  show  me  the  walls.  I  come  o. 
the  noble  family  of  the  Monti." 

"  Bravo  !  my  little  prince  !"  cried  Morris, 


8  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

laughing  immoderately.  "  And,  pray,  how 
happened  it  that  your  small  lordship  came 
over  here  ?" 

'•  Because  my  father  died,  and —  But  I 
will  not  answer  any  more  questions  :  you  are 
very  cruel  to  me,  you  rude  English  boys,  rag- 
azzaccj  Inglesi"  answered  the  poor  little  fellow 
in  his  distress,  using  his  own  language  to  ex- 
press his  feelings. 

"  I  suppose  rag — what 's  the  rest  of  it  ? — 
means  rascal ;  and  I  should  like  to  know  how 
any  imp  of  a  foreigner  dare  call  me  '  rascal.' 
Mind  what  you're  about,  my  young  prince," 
said  Morris,  flourishing  his  stick  very  near  lit- 
tle Niccolo's  head.  The  other  boys  looked  on, 
not  daring  to  interfere  with  one  who,  by  his 
cleverness  and  his  fighting  capabilities,  had 
got  to  be  dux  in  the  schoolroom,  and  tyrant  in 
the  playground.  At  last,  one  of  the  later 
comers,  who  did  not  stand  so  much  in  fear  of 
him,  took  hold  of  Morris's  arm. 

"  Come,  come,  Woodhouse  !  you  are  playing 
the  same  game  with  this  young — what 's  the 
lad's  name  ? — that  you  did  with  me  a  month 
ago ;  and  I  must  say  it 's  rather  cowardly,  con- 
sidering he  is  such  a  little  fellow." 

"  Don't   interfere,   my  lad,"   said   the  big 


THE    NEW    PUPIL.  9 

boy,  with  a  patronizing  air.  "  I  'm  the  king 
of  the  school,  as  you  very  well  know.  You 
have  not  forgotten  the  thrashing  I  gave  you, 
Archibald  McKaye  ?  Walk  off,  will  you? 
and  let  me  finish  this  small  frog  of  a  French. 
man." 

"  I  am  no  Frenchman  !  I  am  an  Italian  ! 
and  that  is  quite  as  good  as  a  great  ugly  bad 
Englishman,  like  you  !"  cried  Niccolo,  boldly ; 
ending  his  speech  with  a  torrent  of  angry  ap- 
pellations, in  his  Southern  tongue. 

Morris  was  now  thoroughly  getting  into  a 
passion  ;  and  the  uplifted  stick  would  have 
fallen  heavily  on  the  child's  head,  had  not 
Archibald  caught  it,  and  turned  it  aside. 

"  Wont  you  hear  reason,  Morris,  and  let 
that  boy  alone  ?"  he  said. 

"  Hear  reason !  hear  reason  from  you  !  you 
long  solemn-faced  Scotch  fellow,  with  a  tongue 
as  harsh  as  a  crow  ?  You  preach  reason  to 
me  !    Get  away,  or  I  '11  thrash  you  again  !" 

"  Try  !"  said  Archibald,  quietly  :  while  a 
faint  murmur  of  "  Shame  !  shame  !"  rose  up 
from  some  of  the  boys  ;  and  Niccolo  crept  be- 
hind his  brave  defender,  and  peeped  over 
McKaye's  shoulder  at  the  king  of  the  school. 

"  Do   you   mean   to   say   you  '11   fight   me 


10  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

again  ?"  said  the  latter,  somewhat  surprised  at 
the  boy's  resolute  attitude. 

"  Yes,  if  you  don't  treat  this  lad  civilly.  I 
don't  see  why  he  should  be  bullied  because  he 
happens  to  be  a  foreigner,  and  a  stranger." 

"  A  sthranger  indeed  !"  said  Morris,  mimic- 
ing  Archibald's  accent.  "And  so  you  intend 
to  fight  his  battles,  because  he  is  a  sthranger, 
like  yourself?" 

"Yes,"  again  said  Archibald.  He  was  al- 
ways a  quiet  boy,  and  one  of  few  words.  But 
there  was  a  firmness  and  determination  in  his 
manner,  that  showed,  when  once  roused,  he 
was  not  soon  willing  to  yield.  The  two  lads 
took  off  their  jackets,  and  prepared  for  a  regu- 
lar combat,  schoolboy  fashion,  to  settle  the 
point,  vi  et  armis.  This  is  the  only  way  in 
which  boys  can  settle  their  disputes,  and  will 
do  as  long  as  the  world  lasts.  Before  they 
commenced,  McKaye  turned  round  to  the 
others. 

"  Now,  fellows,  you  all  see  what  I  am  fight- 
ing for  :  just  doing  for  this  youngster  what 
some  of  you  should  have  done  for  me  when  I 
came  ;  instead  of  which,  you  all  set  to  work 
abusing  me.  Morris  beat  me  before  ;  we  'II 
see  if  he  does  this  time  :  but  either  way,  I  have 


THE   NEW   PUPIL.  H 

got  the  right  on  my  side.     Now  set  to  as  soon 
as  you  like." 

Archibald  shook  back  his  fair  curling  hair, 
threw  his  spare  but  active  figure  into  a  posture 
of  defence  ;  and  looked  what  he  was — a  fine 
bold   young   mountaineer,   from  the  land   of 
Wallace  and  of  Bruce. 

The  boys  formed  the  circle,  and  "  Bravo, 
Morris  !"  *'  Try  it  again,  Mac  !"  showed  the 
deep  interest  they  took  in  the  combat.  It  was 
a  trial  of  right  against  might ;  and  many  of 
those  who  had  suffered  from  Morris's  overbear- 
ing character  were  only  deterred  by  the  still 
doubtful  issue  of  the  battle,  from  showing  how 
strongly  they  felt  with  the  only  one  who  had 
dared  to  oppose  justice  to  tyranny. 

Meanwhile,  the  little  Italian  crept  aloof,  and 
wondered  if  all  English  welcomes  were  like 
this,  and  whether  English  boys  always  fought 
in  this  fashion.  The  poor  little  fellow's 
thoughts  went  back  to  his  own  sunny  garden, 
where  he  used  to  sleep  away  the  day  under 
the  orange-trees,  with  the  clear  sky  of  Rome 
above  him,  and  his  nurse  beside  him,  with 
her  soft  Italian  ditties,  and  her  sVories  of  the 
ancient  glory  of  the  Monti.  Then  he  woke 
from  this  reverie  to  find  himself  in  the  dull 


12  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

playground  with  its  high  walls  shutting  out 
everything  but  the  cold  grey  English  sky. 

The  fight  terminated  as  contests  do  not  al- 
ways end — the  right  won.  Archibald's  skilful 
wrestling  gained  the  victory  over  Morris's 
heavy  blows,  and  the  latter  was  laid  prostrate 
on  the  ground.  Half  the  boys  raised  a  cry  of 
triumph  and  congratulation  to  the  victor ;  the 
others  were  still  too  much  afraid  of  their  fallen 
enemy,  and  kept  a  doubtful  silence.  McKaye 
lifted  up  his  adversary,  saw  that  he  was  not 
hurt,  and  then  was  well  content  to  let  him  re- 
tire with  a  few  obsequious  friends  to  wash  hia 
face,  and  remove  all  traces  of  the  battle  before 
he  met  the  doctor's  eye. 

''Your  man  has  won,  my  little  fellow,"  said 
one  of  the  boys,  clapping  Niccolo  on  the  shoul- 
der. "  O  be  joyful  !  you  wont  get  any  more 
abuse  from  Morris  Woodhouse.  Mac  haa 
fought  it  out  for  you.  Are  you  not  much 
obliged  to  him  ?" 

"  I  am,  indeed  I  am  !"  cried  the  young  Ital- 
ian ;  and,  warm  and  impassioned  in  all  his 
impulses,  he  ran  to  Archibald,  seized  his  hand, 
kissed  it,  and  poured  forth  a  stream  of  grateful 
thanks. 

But  the  quiet,  reserved  Archibald  drew  hia 


THE    NEW    PUPIL.  13 

nand  away  :  he  saw  the  other  boys  beginning 
to  laugh,  and  a  natural  shyness  caused  him  to 
dislike  being  made  the  subject  of  such  passion- 
ate gratitude. 

"  There,  that  will  do,  my  boy  ;  you  need 
not  say  so  much  ;  I  only  fought  for  you  be- 
cause you  were  too  little  to  fight  for  yourself. 
.  Only  mind  not  to  vex  Morris  another  time." 

The  warm-hearted  Italian  shrunk  back,  with 
the  tears  standing  in  his  eyes.  He  did  not 
speak  to  McKaye  again  until  the  dinner-bell 
had  rang,  and  all  the  other  boys  had  rushed 
into  the  house.  Archibald  stayed  behind, 
rubbing  the  mud  from  his  jacket,  when  Niccolo 
crept  up  to  him  and  offered  to  assist. 

"  What,  little  one,  is  that  you  ?"  said  McKaye. 
"  Come,  then  ;  you  may  as  well  help  to  set  me 
to  rights  again." 

"  I  should  have  come  before,  but  that  I 
thought  you  were  angry  with  me." 

"  Angry  !  Oh,  no  !  Only  I  did  not  quite 
like  being  made  a  fool  of  before  the  bays  with 
your  kissing  my  hand.  We  don't  do  it  here  : 
but  I  suppose  it  was  only  your  Italian  fashion." 

"  I  cannot  do  anything  right,"  sighed  the 
poor  child.  "  Ah,  England  is  a  strange  place. 
I  shall  never  be  happy  here." 

2 


14  STORY   OF   A    GENIUS. 

"  Oil,  but  you  will  in  time,  when  you  have 
got  accustomed  to  us  all.  I  had  to  go  through 
just  the  same  ;  for  I  am  a  stranger,  like  you, 
as,  I  dare  say,  you  heard  Morris  say.  The 
mean  fellow,  he  is  always  taunting  me  with 
my  country  and  my  tongue,  as  if  a  Scotsman 
were  not  as  good  as  an  Englishman  every 
inch :  ay,  and  better  too,"  said  Archibald, 
compressing  his  lips,  and  clenching  his  hands, 
in  ill-concealed  indignation.  "  But,  come, 
little  fellow  ;  this  does  not  much  interest  you, 
so  we  '11  go  in  to  dinner." 

"  I  am  afi-aid,"  murmured  Niccolo,  shrink- 
ing back. 

"  Pshaw  !  What  are  you  afraid  of?  Morris 
wont  eat  you.     Come." 

But  the  child  still  hung  back,  and  at  last 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  in  my  own  dear  Italy  ! 
I  am  so  miserable,"  he  sobbed.  "  Oh  that  I 
could  go  home  !" 

There  was  something  in  the  boy's  desolate 
condition  that  touched  Archibald's  heart.  He 
thought  of  his  own  far  off  home,  which  he  dearly 
loved,  and  felt  compassion  for  the  poor  Italian 
thus  alone  in  a  strange  land.  He  laid  his  hand 
on  Niccolo's  shoulder,  and  his  tones  lost  their 


THE   NEW   PUPIL.  15 

schoolboy  roughness,  and  became  modulated 
to  the  tenderness  of  a  girl. 

"  Don't  cry,  there  's  a  good  fellow,  don't  now  ! 
I'll  take  care  of  you.     We  are  both  strangers 
here  ;   and  we  '11  both  fight  our  way  together 
Come,  we  shall  be  excellent  friends,  I  know." 

Niccolo  dried  his  tears,  and  looked  gratefully 
in  the  face  of  the  elder  boy. 

"  There,  now,  that 's  right,"  said  McKaye. 
"Be  a  man,  my  little- fellow.  And,  by  the 
bye,  what  shall  I  call  you  ?  I  cannot  remem- 
ber that  long,  fine-sounding  name  of  yours." 

The  other  smiled.  "  My  nurse  used  to  call 
me  Nicoletto,  and  Nicolettino.  Is  that  too 
long  ?" 

Archibald  shook  his  head  :  "  I  am  afraid  it 
is.  Besides,  the  boys  will  laugh  at  it,  and  call 
you  Nick,  and  Old  Nick,  but  you  don't  under- 
stand  this,  I  see,"  added  he,  laughing.  "  Well, 
can't  you  think  of  another  name  ?  You  seem 
to  have  plenty  to  spare." 

My  father  always  called  me  Cola;  and  I 
like  that  name  best  too." 

"Cola,  Cola.  Aye,  that  will  do  very  well. 
And  now,  friend  Cola,  let  me  give  you  one 
piece  of  advice  :  Say  as  little  as  ye  can  about 
your  father,  the  Count,  and  the  princes,  your 


16  STORY    OF    A    GENnrS. 

ancestors,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  ;  you  wilt 
only  get  laughed  at  for  it  here.  I  think  I  have 
myself  as  long  a  pedigree  as  most  people,  and 
am  rather  proud  of  it  too ;  but  I  never  talk 
about  it ;  and  you  had  better  follow  my  exam- 
ple. That  is  the  first  thing  for  you  to  remem- 
ber ;  and  I  '11  tell  you  a  few  others  by  and  bye. 
Now  let  us  go  in  to  dinner." 


CHAPTER  II. 

A   SHORT   ONE,   SHOWING   HOW   COLA   GOT   ON 
AT   SCHOOL. 

It  is  astonishing  what  an  effect  one  good  ex- 
ample  has  sometimes.  When  Cola,  as  we  shall 
henceforth  call  him,  was  again  left  in  the 
power  of  his  new  schoolmates,  during  the  hour 
between  supper  and  bed-time,  no  one  attempted 
to  ill-ti'eat  him,  or  ventured  more  than  a  few 
harmless  jokes  at  his  quaint  accent  and  man- 
ners. True,  these  were  very  annoying  to  the 
boy,  who  was  alike  proud  and  shy,  and  had 
,  Been  brought  up  as  the  only  son  of  a  noble 
family,  always  treated  with  respect.  More  tlian 
once  he  looked  appealingly  at  his  protector 
McKaye ;  but  Archibald  seemed  not  disposed 
to  extend  his  championship  further  than  was 
absolutely  required.  He  quietly  left  Cola  to 
make  his  own  way  with  the  boys,  and  find  his 
own  level.  This  was  indeed  the  wisest  course 
for  both  the  protector  and  the  protected. 

Morris  Woodhouse  sat  sullenly  aloof.     His 
2* 


18  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

authority  had  been  shaken  for  the  first  time, 
and  he  felt  proportionably  humbled.  The 
"  king  of  the  school"  trembled  on  his  throne. 
Some  few  stings  of  conscience  mingled  with 
his  vexation  ;  for  Morris  was  not  on  the  whole  - 
a  bad  boy,  only  he  had  that  love  of  power 
which  seems  inherent  in  the  nature  of  boys 
and  men,  and  often  degenerates  into  the  most 
barefaced  tyranny.  Yet  there  were  some  few 
in  the  school  who  rather  liked  him  than  other- 
wise  ;  for  he  had  a  careless  generosity,  and, 
moreover,  being  a  rich  man's  son,  had  where- 
withal to  exercise  it.  The  lovers  of  cake  and 
playthings  always  stood  by  Morris  Woodhouse  ; 
and  those  quiet-tempered  boys  who  would  give 
way  to  anybody,  declared  that  he  was  a  toler- 
ably good  fellow,  so  long  as  you  did  not  con-  ^ 
tradict  him.  These  gathered  round  their  fm.*^ 
len  master,  and  made  a  little  conclave,  while- 
the  more  sturdy  and  independent  sided  with 
McKaye.  Thus  the  school  bade  fair  to  become 
divided  into  two  distinct  and  warring  factions. 
Both  parties  went  to  bed,  each  in  stern  indigna- 
tion with  the  other.  So  en£frossin"  was  this 
warfare  that  nobody  thought  of  playing  off  on 
young  Cola  the  usual  tricks  which  mark  the 
receptiou  of  the  "  new  boy."     Consequently 


COLA   AT   SCHOOL.  19 

thfe  Italian  crept  into  his  bed  without  finding 
the  blankets  sewed  up,  or  a  furze-bush  for  his 
bed-fellow,  or  any  of  those  agreeable  con- 
trivances for  making  a  new-comer  as  misera- 
ble as  possible.  And  .thus  passed  Cola's  first 
day  at  schoool. 

It  was  a  great  and  painful  change  to  the 
young  foreigner,  from  the  pleasant  southern 
home,  of  which  he  dared  not  speak,  to  the  re- 
straints of  an  English  school.  The  long  hours 
of  study  were  irksome  to  him  beyond  expres- 
sion ;  more  especially  as  he  then  felt  acutely 
his  own  ignorance.  His  class-fellows  were  the 
youngest  boys  in  the  school  ;  and  Cola's  idle 
and  desultory  habits  seemed  to  foretell  that  it 
would  be  a  long  time  before  he  got  above  them. 
Every  day  he  cried  over  the  easiest  lessons ; 
and  then- the  other  boys  laughed  at  him,  and 
his  breast  boiled  with  anger,  until  he  was  well- 
nigh  playing  toward  his  junior  class-mates  the 
same  ungenerous  part  which  Morris  Wood- 
house  had  tried  to  exercise  against  himself. 
The  tyrant  and  the  slave  are  often  distinguished 
by  circumstances  alone. 

Sometimes,  in  his  distress.  Cola  would  go  to 
his  old  friend  Archibald.  But  McKaye  had 
study  enough  of  his  own  ;  though  diligent  and 


20  STORY   OF   A   GENIUS. 

hardworking,  he  was  not  a  quick  boy,  and  il 
annoyed  him  to  be  disturbed. 

**  Get  some  one  else  to  help  you,  Cola,"  he 
would  say.  "  Why  do  n't  you  go  to  Morris  ? 
He  always  does  his  work  quickly,  and  has 
plenty  of  time  to  spare." 

But  Cola  would  rather  have  endured  Dr. 
Birch's  cane  every  day  of  his  life,  than  have 
been  indebted  to  Morris  for  anything  under 
the  sun.  All  the  burning  feelings  of  his 
Italian  nature  were  concentrated  in  hatred  of 
the  boy  who  had  first  insulted  him.  Long 
after  the  feud  had  been  healed,  and  the  result 
of  Archibald's  battle  only  remained  in  the  bet- 
ter behavior  of  Woodhouse  towards  his  school- 
mates, Cola  nourished  his  angry  feelings  in 
secret,  and  lost  no  opportunity  of  showing 
them. 

And  with  these  feelings  of  personal  dislike 
were  united  others,  which  might  almost  be 
said  to  take  their  rise  in  the  best  emotions  of 
his  nature  :  so  much  are  good  and  evil  some- 
times mingled.  The  more  Cola  loved  Archi- 
bald,  the  more  he  hated  Morris.  These  two 
boys  seemed  made  to  be  rivals  in  everything. 
McKaye's  steady  persevei'ance  kept  pace 
with  Morris's  talents ;  and  while  the  latter  was 


COLA    AT    SCHOOL.  21 

first  in  the  class,  Archibald  always  contrived 
to  be  second.  The  same  rivalry  extended  to 
the  playground,  where  Woodhouse  for  the 
first  time  found  an  opponent  equal  in  strength 
and  activity  to  himself  Strange  to  say,  while 
the  whole  school  was  divided  by  partisanship, 
the  two  leaders  got  on  very  well  together; 
and  though  rivals,  bore  no  personal  hatred  to 
each  other.  The  reason  of  this  was  probably 
because  McKaye  was  what  boys  call,  "  a 
quiet  sort  of  a  fellow,"  who  did  not  much  care 
to  get  the  upper  hand,  provided  he  was  not 
trampled  upon ;  and  moreover,  because  Mor- 
ris's natural  good  temper  was  not  proof 
against  the  frank  open  way  in  which  this  war 
of  emulation  was  carried  on  by  his  school- 
mate. 

But  all  this  did  not  hinder  the  others  from 
many  contests  on  the  subject  of  their  two 
companions ;  for  there  is  nothing  boys  like  so 
well  as  warfare.  They  must  fight  for  a  good 
cause,  a  bad  cause,  and  no  cause  at  all,  it 
matters  little  ;  and  of  all  these  young  belliger- 
ents. Cola  Monti  was  the  warmest.  Every 
triumph  of  Morris's  over  Archibald,  gave  him 
the  keenest  indignation  ;  every  wrong  done  to 
his  friend,  he   felt  like  an  insult  to  himself. 


22  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

Passionate  in  all  his  emotions,  the  Italian 
would  have  clone  anything  to  injure  Morris,  or 
to  serve  Archibald. 

McKaye  took  all  this  wild  affection  with  the 
quietness  of  his  nature.  It  was  pleasant  to 
find  all  his  books  arranged,  his  room  in  order ; 
and  his  garden  attended  to.  Now  and  then  he 
thanked  his  little  friend  with  a  good-humored 
smile  and  a  kindly  word.  But  all  the  under- 
currents  of  the  young  Italian's  feelings  were 
quite  incomprehensible  to  him  :  indeed  he 
never  sought  to  penetrate  them. 

Thus  the  half-year  passed,  and  the  mid- 
summer holidays  drew  near,  with  the  examin- 
ation,  which  formed  the  grand  epoch  at  Dr. 
Birch's  establishment.  So  important  indeed 
was  it,  that  we  must  give  it  a  new  chapter. 


CHAPTER  III. 

cola's    revenge 

"  At  what  are  you  working  away  so  hard, 
Archy  ?"  whispered  Cola  to  his  friend,  as  he 
came  into  the  schoolroom,  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening,  and  found  McKaye  in  the  midst  of 
his  books,  trying  to  make  the  most  of  what  lit- 
tle light  there  was.  "  Do  come  ;  we  are  hav- 
ing such  a  capital  game  at  prisoners'-base." 

*'  I  can't !  really  I  can't !  Now  do  go 
away,  there 's  a  good  lad,  and  leave  me  to 
finish  this  Greek  exercise.  You  know  it  is 
for  the  examination  to-morrow." 

"  I  thought  you  had  done  all  your  work." 

"  Yes,  this  is  the  last  page  of  the  book  :  I 
must  finish  it.  Here,  fetch  me  that  Lexicon, 
and  be  off  with  you  to  play  !" 

Cola  brought  the  book  :  but  instead  of  going 
away,  he  sat  down  quietly  on  a  form  opposite, 
and  watched  the  anxious  countenance  of  Archi- 
bald, who  was  at  work  so  hard  that  he  hardly 
seemed  to  notice  his  presence 


24  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

"  It's  no  use,  I  can  see  no  longer,  and  my 
head  aches  badly  enough,"  McKay e  said  at 
last,  throwing  himself  back,  despondingly. 

"  How  much  have  you  left  undone  ?"  said 
Cola. 

"  Only  one  line  :  I  can  do  that  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  Then  come  out  and  play  !" 

But  Archy  stretched  himself  wearily  on  the 
bench.  "  No,  no  !  I  am  so  tired ;  and  my 
head  is  quite  stupid  with  thinking  about  to- 
naorrow.  I  wonder.  Cola,  how  I  shall  stand 
at  this  Greek  examination  !  there  's  Foster,  and 
Williams,  and  Campion." 

"  They  are  all  below  you,  as  every  one  ac- 
knowledges." 

"  Yes,  all  but  Morris  Woodhouse.  Ah  !  he 
is  sure  to  get  the  best :  he  is  so  clever.  And 
yet,  I  have  worked  so  hard  ;  and  I  did  want  to 
gain  the  Greek  prize  :  it  would  please  my 
father  very  much.  Well,  well,  it  cannot  be 
helped." 

Cola,  as  he  sat  in  the  twilight,  clenched  his 
small  hands,  and  knitted  his  brows  ;  the  very 
idea  of  Morris's  gaining  such  a  triumph  was 
scarcely  endurable.     "  Archy,"  said  he,  "  how 


cola's  revenge.  25 

do  you  know  that  ?  how  can  you  be  sure  tha+ 
Morris  will  get  it  ?" 

"Because  the  doctor  is  so  particular  about 
Greek  exercises,  and  Woodhouse's  are  alway? 
so  good  :  that  will  be  the  turning  point,  as  al) 
the  boys  say." 

And  just  at  this  moment  the  quiet  school 
•room  was  entered  by  a  troop  of  merry  lads,  riot 
ous  with  the  prospect  of  approaching  holidays 

"  What,  not  done  yet,  McKay*".  V  cried  one 

"  I  've  done  all  my  work  i"  "  And  I  !' 
"  And  I !"  echoed  several  othf  r'^. 

"  Now  for  it,  let  us  see  wli'^h  is  the  bes'^ 
Morris  or  McKaye  !"  said  another  boy,  pulling 
about  the  Greek  books.  "  Here  's  McKaye'^ 
exercise.     Now,  Morris,  let 's  ha'-e  yours." 

"  I  have  a  good  deal  to  do  at  mine  yet," 
answered  Morris,  carelessly. 

"  Ah  !  that 's  just  like  you  !  you  always 
leave  everything  to  the  last." 

"  Because  nothing  gives  me  any  tro-uble.  I 
can  do  in  five  minutes  what  it  wouJd  take  you 
fellows  an  hour,  or  McKaye  there  ei*.her,"  said 
Woodhouse  with  a  smile  of  conscious  superior- 
ity, which  made  Archy  bite  his  lips  in  vexation, 
and  brought  a  throng  of  violent  feelings  to  the 
bosom  of  Cola. 

3 


26  STORY   OF   A   GENIUS. 

"  Well,  well !  out  with  your  exercise-bo>>ks, 
and  let  us  compare  them,"  was  the  universal 
cry. 

So  hard  had  McKaye  worked,  that,  as  far 
as  the  boys  could  judge,  there  was  little  to 
choose  between  the  two,  especially  in  the  point 
which  struck  their  attention  most,  and  about 
which  they  knew  the  doctor  was  very  partic- 
ular— the  clearness  and  distinctness  of  the 
Greek  characters,  and  the  neatness  of  the 
whole. 

"  Well — except  that  Woodhouse  is  the  dux, 
and  has  been  longest  at  school,  I  should  think 
the  doctor  would  be  puzzled  to  decide,"  ac- 
knowledged Forster,  one  of  Morris's  own  ad- 
herents :  "  It 's '  neck  and  neck,'  as  the  jockeys 
say." 

"  But  Morris's  exercise  is  not  done  yet,"  in- 
terposed one  on  McKaye's  side.  "  If  he  should 
fail,  you  are  sure  of  the  prize,  Archy." 

"  Don't  trouble  yourselves,  my  lads,"  said 
Morris,  loftily  :  "  I  am  quite  satisfied  about  the 
matter  myself" 

"  Well,  take  your  books,  fellows,  and  let  us 
leave  the  afl^air  to  the  doctor,  observed  one  of 
the  wisest  of  the  group,  who  saw  that  the  dis- 
cussion was  likely  to  become  warm. 


cola's  revenge.  27 

"  I  shall  leave  mine  here,  and  get  up  half 
an  hour  earlier  than  usual  to  finish  it,"  said 
Morris,  tossing  the  exercise-book  down  care- 
lessly and  walking  away,  the  very  picture  of 
self-satisfaction.  He  had  too  good  an  opinion 
of  his  own  merits  to  feel  any  anxiety  about  his, 
success.  While  McKaye  spent  the  evening, 
until  bedtime,  in  arranging  his  books,  and  poring 
over  everything  with  pale  and  anxious  looks, 
his  rival  laughed  and  whistled,  and  betted  on 
the  different  competitors  beneath  him  with  the 
most  perfect  self-confidence. 

There  were  many  sleepless  eyes  that  night 
in  the  various  dormitories  where  the  doctor's 
young  flock  were  ranged.  Each  had  a  tiny 
room  to  himself,  so  that  all  conversation  on  the 
one  grand  subject  ceased  with  the  time  of  retir- 
ing to  rest ;  otherwise  the  important  matter  of 
the  examination  might  have  been  talked  over 
until  daylight. 

But  of  all  these  restless  young  hearts,  none 
beat  so  violently  as  that  of  Cola.  Gifted  by 
nature  with  a  quality  peculiar  to  his  clime, — one 
which  in  a  good  cause  is  called  acuteness,  in  a 
bad  one,  cunning, — the  Italian  revolved  within 
his  mind  every  conceivable  plan  for  effecting 
the  downfall  of  his  enemy,  and  the  consequent 


28  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

triumph  of  his  friend.  Accustomed  from  his 
childhood  to  hear  revenge  talked  of  as  a  virtue, 
especially  when  exercised  on  behalf  of  one 
both  dear  and  injured,  Cola  never  thought  for 
a  moment  that  he  was  doing  anything  wrong 
in  thus  scheming  against  his  schoolfellow. 
When  at  last  he  hit  upon  a  plan  which  seemed 
likely  to  serve  his  purpose,  he  leaped  out  of 
bed  and  danced  about  for  joy,  so  that  the 
wakeful  Archibald,  called  to  him  from  the 
next  room  to  know  what  was  the  matter. 

As  soon  as  day  began  to  peep,  Cola  rose, 
dressed  himself,  and  crept  noiselessly  down  to 
the  schoolroom.  It  cost  him  a  world  of  pains  to 
unfasten  the  shutters  without  making  any 
sound  to  disturb  the  family  ;  but  he  succeeded. 
Then  he  hunted  in  the  dim  light  for  the  exer- 
cise books  which  had  been  left  the  night  before  ; 
and  seizing  Morris's,  he  jumped  out  of  the  low 
window,  and  ran  like  lightning  through  the 
garden,  to  a  paddock  belonging  to  the  house, 
where  there  was  a  small  pond. 

The  young  conspirator  had  laid  his  plans 
with  a  skill  worthy  of  an  older  head,  and  with 
ingenuity  far  too  great  for  such  an  evil  design. 
He  found  a  heavy  stone,  took  some  strong 
twine  out  of  his  pocket,  and  carefully  fastened 


cola's  revenge.  29 

the  stone  and  tl'ie  book  together ;  then  he  de- 
liberately sank  them  both  to  the  bottom  of  the 
pond. 

As  Cola  saw  the  book  disappear,  he  clapped 
his  hands  and  set  up  a  shout  of  delight.  If  it 
had  been  poor  Morris  himself,  instead  of  his 
exercise-book,  that  had  sunk  beneath  the  deep 
waters  of  the  pond,  the  revengeful  boy  would 
almost  have  done  the  same.  And  yet  even 
then,  a  feelinw  of  stronw  and  unselfish  affection 
half  atoned  for  the  wickedness  of  such  thoughts. 

"  Archibald,  amico  mio  caro,  my  dear 
friend  !"  he  murmured  in  his  Italian  tongue, 
which  he  invariably  used  when  excited,  "  it  is 
for  you,  all  for  you  !" 

And  then  a  rustling  in  the  bushes,  probably 
of  some  early  bird,  startled  him  ;  he  fled  back 
to  the  house,  carefully  fastened  everything  just 
as  he  had  found  it,  and  crept  into  bed  again, 
just  as  the  first  sunshine  of  a  midsummer 
morning  lighted  up  his  I'oom. 

Morris,  with  his  usual  heedlessness,  did  not 
rise  until  there  were  but  a  few  minutes  left  of 
the  half-hour  which  he  had  allowed  himself  to 
finish  the  exercise.  Then  the  book,  of  course, 
could  not  be  found.  He  searched  every- 
where, he  blamed  everybody, — except  himself, 

3* 


30  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

— but  all  to  no  purpose.  Some  of  the  most 
good-natured  of  the  boys  helped  him  to  look 
for  the  missing  book  ;  but  others  only  jested 
with  him ;  and  not  a  few  felt  inwardly  glad 
that  his  self-assurance  was  thus  brought  low. 

Meanwhile,  Cola  stood  silent  and  aloof,  his 
triumphant  eye  alone  showing  how  keen  was 
his  delight  in  the  scene.  Only  once  he  crept 
quietly  up  to  Archibald,  who  sat  finishing  the 
last  line  of  his  task,  without  taking  heed  of 
what  was  going  on. 

"  Archy,  dear  Archy  !"  whispered  he  ;  "  do 
you  hear  ?  you  will  win  now.  Are  you  not 
glad  ?" 

"  Hush  !"  said  McKaye  when  he  compre- 
hended the  state  of  affairs.  Do  n't  be  so  un- 
generous. Cola."  And  he  went  up  to  Morris, 
and  tried  to  assist  in  the  search  ;  but  the  other 
repulsed  him  angrily. 

"  Do  n't  come  here  with  your  sanctified 
face,"  cried  Woodhouse,  "  I  know  you  are 
glad,  heartily  glad,  as  I  should  be,  if  I  were 
in  your  place.  "  Indeed,  Morris,  you  are 
wrong,"  began  Archy.  "  I  want  no  lies. 
Get  away  with  you  !"  was  all  the  answer  of 
the  angry  and  disappointed  boy. 

Archibald's   face    flushed,    and    he   turned 


cola's  revenge.  31 

back.  If  Cola  had  then  asked  him,  "  Are  you 
glad  ?"  he  could  not  honestly  have  replied, 
"  No  !"  It  would  have  been  against  human 
nature — against  boyish  nature,  most  of  all. 

The  breakfast-bell  rang,  and  all  was  over 
with  poor  Morris,  for  immediately  afterwards 
the  examination  began.  There  was  no  hope 
for  the  unfortunate  dux  in  Doctor  Birch's 
angry  brow  :  utterly  unsuspicious  of  any  de- 
ception, the  schoolmaster  at  once  attributed  the 
loss  of  the  book  to  carelessness.  It  annoyed 
him  ;  for  he  was  proud  of  his  clever  pupil, 
who  had  always  done  credit  to  the  school. 
But  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  the  prize 
was  justly  McKaye's. 

"  It  might  have  been  yours  still,  even  had 
Woodhouse  not  lost  his  book,"  said  the  candid 
master,  as  he  examined  the  carefully  written 
tasks  before  him.  "  You  have  done  very 
well,  McKaye,  and  deserve  your  prize,  that 
is,  to  a  certain  extent ;  but  I  wish  the  contest 
could  have  been  quite  on  fair  ground." 

"  Are  you  not  happy  now  ?  whispered  the 
little  Italian  to  his  friend,  when  McKaye  went 
away  with  his  prize.  "  Look  at  Morris  :  see, 
he  is  white  with  rage.  Oh  how  glad  I  am  he 
is  beaten  at  last !     Are  you  not,  Archy  ?" 


32  STOEY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

There  was  a  look  on  ]\IcKaye's  face  that 
was  not  like  perfect  happiness.  He  was  alike 
too  honest  and  loo  proud  to  be  quite  contented 
with  such  a  doubtful  triumph,  a  success  on 
sufferance.  And  when  the  boys  gathered 
round  to  see  his  prize,  there  was  a  jeering 
smile  in  the  countenances  of  some  of  Morris's 
friends  that  vexed  Archy  much.  He  an- 
swered  Cola  rather  roughly — 

"  Do  n't  teaze  me,  Cola.  I  am  not  glad ; 
and  revenge  is  very  dishonorable.  I  don't 
want  to  be  talked  to.  Do  run  away  and  play. 
You  see  all  the  rest  are  going." 

Cola  looked  at  him  with  a  mixture  of  sur- 
prise, anger,  and  wounded  feeling ;  but  he  did 
not  speak  until  they  were  both  alone  in  the 
schoolroom.     Then  he  said, — 

"  You  are  angry,  you  send  me  away  ;  and 
yet  you  do  not  know  what  I  have  done  for  you." 

"  Nonsense,  my  boy  :  I  think  you  are  more 
pleased  at  being  revenged  on  Morris,  than  at 
my  getting  the  prize." 

Cola  drew  up  his  slight  small  figure,  and  a 
world  of  passionate  feeling  flashed  from  his 
dark,  brilliant,  Italian  eyes. 

"  You  are  right,  Archy.  I  am  glad  to  be 
revenged  :  every  one  is — in  my  country.     If 


cola's  kevenge.  83 

I  had  had  Morris  in  Rome,  I  a  man,  and  he 
too ;  we  would  have  fought,  and  I  would  have 
killed  him." 

Archibald  turned  away  in  disgust.  His 
calm  temperament  felt  only  horror  at  such 
ideas,  in  a  boy  so  young.  "  I  tell  you  what, 
Cola  :  if  you  do  not  take  care,  you  will  come 
to  be  hanged." 

"  Shall  I,  shall  I  ?"  cried  the  excited  boy. 
'^  And  you,  Archy,  you  talk  so,  when  I  did  it 
all  for  your  sake  ?" 
"All!     What?" 

"  I  was  determined  you  should  have  the 
prize,  and  not  Morris ;  so  I  tied  a  stone  to  the 
book,  and  I  sank  it  into  the  pond." 

Archibald  looked  at  his  companion  with  the 
utmost  surprise.  "  How  dared  you  venture 
such  a  thing  ?  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  your- 
self?" 

"  Not  in  the  least.     I  loved  you  and  I  hated 
'  him ;  so  I  did  what  was  right,  and  I  got  what 
I  wanted." 

Archibald,  utterly  confounded  by  the  boy's 
confession,  and  by  the  sudden  revulsion  of 
feeling  it  occasioned,  sank  down  on  a  seat,  and 
remained  for  several  minutes  without  uttering 
a  word.     It  Avas  a  trying  position  for  the  poor 


34  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

boy  to  be  placed  in.  He  had  struggled  so 
hard  to  win  this  prize,  he  felt  that  he  deserved 
it ;  and  yet  every  honorable  feeling  in  his 
bosom  rebelled  against  keeping  that  which  had 
been  gained  by  a  mean  trick.  Then  on  the 
other  hand,  if  he  declared  the  truth,  it  would 
lieap  disgrace  and  punishment  upon  Cola,  who 
had  erred  chiefly  through  love  of  him.  Wliile 
Archibald's  reason  condemned  the  act,  his 
feelings  whispered  that  it  was  not  so  bad  after 
all.  No  one  would  ever  know  it ;  it  would 
please  his  father  so  much  to  see  the  bright  sil- 
ver inkstand,  as  a  token  of  his  son's  diligence. 
While  McKaye's  thoughts  took  this  turn,  he 
lifted  up  his  eyes  to  the  so-longed-for  treas- 
ure :  they  rested  on  the  doctor's  favorite 
motto,  which  he  had  caused  to  be  engraved 
on  it — 

^^Ante  omnia  Veritas,'^  "  Truth  above  all 
things."  It  went  to  the  boy's  heart  with  a 
conviction  and  force  that  were  irresistible. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,  I  cannot  keep  it,"  cried 
he  ;  and  without  another  look  at  his  prize,  he 
rushed  out  of  the  room.  Cola  heard  his  steps 
along  the  hall,  his  tremulous  knock  at  the  doc- 
tor's study  door,  and  felt  that  all  was  over. 
The  plan  of  revenge  had  failed. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE     DISCOVERT. 


In  the  afternoon  the  boys  were  startled  from 
their  holiday  sports  by  a  general  summons  to 
Doctor  Birch's  study.  All  went  with  consid- 
erable surprise :  Cola  in  fear,  anger,  and  mor- 
tification. For  a  long  time  he  could  not  be- 
lieve that  Archibald  had  really  betrayed  him ; 
and  in  his  ardent  nature,  the  feeling  of  wounded 
affection  almost  overpowered  his  hatred  to- 
wards Morris. 

"  Young  gentlemen,"  said  the  schoolmaster, 
in  his  gravest  tones,  "  I  have  sent  for  you  to 
speak  about  a  story  which  has  reached  my 
ears,  concerning  the  Greek  prize.  You  all 
know  that  it  was  given  to  Archibald  McKaye, 
in  consequence  of  Morris  Wood  house's  book 
having  been  lost :  thereby  leaving  Archibald, 
as  second  boy,  the  sole  competitor.  Now 
McKayc,  with  an  honesty  and  generosity  which 
I  am  sure  you  will  respect  as  much  as  I  do, 
tells  me  that  the  book  was  lost  intentionally; 


36  STORY    OF    A    GENItrS. 

in  fact,  taken  by  another  school-fellow,  who 
desired  to  injure  Woodhouse.  The  name  of 
this  boy  McKaye  has  entreated  me  not  to  in- 
quire :  nor  do  I  wish  to  know ;  not  for  the  sake 
of  the  culprit,  but  out  of  regard  to  the  gener- 
ous scruples  of  Archibald.  Now,  young  gen- 
tlemen, what  I  wish  to  say  is  this  :  that  as 
honesty,  justice,  and  truth  are  above  all,  I 
have  accepted  McKaye's  resignation  of  this 
prize.  Although  it  cannot  be  given  to  Wood- 
house,  it  will  remain  in  my  hands  for  compe- 
tition at  the  next  half-year..  And  as  to  the 
unknown  culprit,  who  stands  among  you,  1 
make  no  inquiries,  leaving  him  to  the  re- 
proaches of  his  own  conscience.  But  1  shall 
carefully  watch  the  conduct  of  every  one  of 
you ;  and  wherever  I  perceive  the  traces  of 
such  evil  feelings,  shall  visit  with  the  severest 
punishment." 

This  speech,  the  longest  that  Doctor  Birch 
was  ever  known  to  make,  was  listened  to  in 
dead  silence :  the  boys  looked  at  one  another 
in  wonder  and  suspicion. 

"I  did  not  do  it,  sir!"'  "Nor  If"  "Nor  I!" 
cried  several  of  them. 

"  Silence  !"  answered  the  master's  sonorous 
voice.     "  I  want  no  confessions,  I  accuse  no 


THE    DISCOVERY.  37 

one :  but  I  wish  all  of  you  to  know,  and 
Woodhouse  especially,  how  much  I  honor 
McKaye  ;  and  how  I  consider  a  truthful  honest 
act  far  more  creditable  to  him  than  a  Greek 
prize.     Now,  gentlemen,  retire." 

The  boys  were  about  to  obey,  when  a  knoct 
came  to  the  study  door :  it  was  a  lad  from  the 
village,  who  said  he  had  something  to  commw 
riicate  to  the  Doctor. 

"  Very  well.  Go  out,  young  gentlemen," 
said  the  schoolmaster. 

"Please,  sur,"  interposed  the  lad,  grinning, 
"  it's  about  them  I  comed  to  speak.  One  on'em 
has  lost  a  book,  I  reckon  ;  I've  found  it."  And 
he  laid  on  the  table,  still  fastened  to  the  stone, 
and  thoroughly  saturated  with  water,  the  very 
exercise-book  on  which  the  young  Italian  had 
committed  such  summary  execution. 

Cola  trembled  like  an  aspen,  and  could  have 
wished  to  sink  through  the  floor — anywhere 
out  of  the  doctor's  piercing  eye,  which,  in  his 
excited  fancy,  seemed  to  single  him  out  as  the 
guilty  one.  In  the  fervor  of  his  gratitude  he 
.had  crept  up  to  Archibald ;  and  now,  in  his 
alarm,  he  hid  himself  behind  the  sturdy  frame 
of  his  friend. 

4 


38  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

"  Where  did  you  find  this,  young  man  ?'' 
was  tlie  doctor's  stern  inquiry. 

"  At  the  bottom  of  the  pond  in  your  field, 
sur.  I  was  there  this  morning,  bird-nesting, 
please  your  honor,  which  I  hope  you  won't 
take  ill,  as  I  did  n't  mean  any  mischief." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  And  there  I  seed  one  of  your  young  gen- 
tlemen coming  with  something  in  his  hand ; 
and  he  tied  it  to  a  stone  and  flung  it  into  the 
water.  Then  he  talked  some  gibberish,  and 
scampered  off.  I  thought  somehow  he  might 
be  mad,  so  I  fished  the  bundle  up  again,  and 
brought  it  here."  "^ 

The  doctor  gravely  untied  the  string,  and 
found  it  to  be  indeed  the  lost  book.  "  Are 
you  sure,  fellow,  that  it  was  one  of  the  young 
gentlemen  at  my  house  ?" 

"  Aye,  sur,  sure  enough ;  for  there  he  is," 
cried  the  lad  •  and  his  finger  pointed  out 
Cola. 

BoilinsT  with  anfjer,  the  Italian  rushed  at  the 
village-lad,  and  shook  his  tiny  fist  in  his  face. 

"  Poor  young  gentleman !"  said  the  fellow. 
"I  be  sure  he  's  sone  mad." 


o^ 


The  doctor  rang  the  bell  and  dismissed  the 


*& 


unconscious  discoverer  of  Cola's  deed.     Then 


THE    DISCOVERY.  39 

Archibald  went  up  to  his  master,  and  said,  in 
a  trembling  voice  : — 

"  Oh,  sir,  since  chance  has  caused  you  to 
find  out  this,  pray  remember  your  kind  pro- 
mise, and  do  not  punish  the  poor  boy.  He  is 
disgraced  enou2;h." 

"  He  is  indeed,"  said  Doctor  Birch,  as  he 
glanced  toward  where  Cola  stood,  and  saw 
how  all  the  boys  had  moved  away  from  him, 
and  "  sneak,"  "  cheat,"  "  pitiful  fellow,"  were 
murmured  on  every  side. 

"  It  now  only  remains  to  decide  about  the 
prize,"  added  the  schoolmaster,  as  he  examined, 
as  well  as  he  could,  the  wet  leaves  of  the  book. 

"  Let  Morris  have  it,  sir,"  generously  said 
Archibald  ;  and  the  boys,  with  the  quick  feel- 
ings of  youth,  which  generally  lean  to  the 
right  side,  seconded  the  request.  But  Morris 
stood  forward. 

"I  don't  care  much  about  the  prize  now. 
But,  I  tell  you,  Archy  McKaye,  you  are  a 
regular  good  fellow,  and  I  'm  very  much 
obliged  to  you  :  shake  hands  !"  And  he  gave 
his  former  rival  such  a  hearty  gripe  that  it 
made  Archibald's  eyes  water. 

"  This  is  my  decision  about  the  inkstand, 
gentlemen,"    observed    Doctor    Birch  :    "  It 


40  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

shall    be    placed   on   the    schoolroom   mantle 
piece  as  a  memento  and  a  warning  to  you  all.' 

"  Bravo,  that 's  quite  right,  thank  you,  sir," 
cried  the  boys,  hardly  restrained  by  the  sacred 
atmosphere   of  the   doctor's   study,    from   ex 
pressing  their  feelings  in  a  downright  school- 
Doy  hurrah. 

"  Stay  a  moment,  boys,"  said  the  peda- 
guogue,  in  his  sympathy  relaxing  for  a  mo- 
ment  from  the  air  of  gravity  which  he  always 
thought  it  necessary  to  assume  in  his  study. 
Then  resuming  his  severe  look,  he  called 
"Niccolo  Monti." 

Trembling,  crimson  and  pale  by  turns,  the 
boy  moved  to  his  master's  chair.  His  anger 
had  gone  by,  and  the  deepest  shame  and  sor- 
row possessed  his  mind. 

"  Niccolo  Monti,"  said  the  doctor,  «<  if  I 
were  to  punish  you,  I  should  break  my  word, 
which  I  never  do ;  and  besides,  I  should  inflict 
pain  upon  that  good  honest  boy,  McKaye. 
Your  only  excuse  is,  that  you  did  this  partly 
out  of  affection  for  him.  But  in  any  case,  de- 
ceit is  a  sin,  and  revenge  is  one  still  greater. 
You  have  escaped  punishment ;  but  I  com- 
mand you  to  ask  pardon  of  Morris  Woodhouse, 
here,  before  all  your  schoolfellows. 


THE    DISCOVERY.  41 

The  angry  spirit  of  old  shone  in  Cola's  eyes, 
and  he  stood  immoveable.  But  Morris,  whose 
unlooked-for  success  disposed  his  heart  to  all 
better  feelings,  showed  a  kindness  and  gener- 
osity  that  astonished  every  one. 

"  Come,  Cola,"  he  said,  "  you  need  not  ask 
my  pardon  ;  I  am  not  at  all  vexed  with  you 
now  ;  you  are  only  a  little  fellow  compared 
■with  me;  you  could  not  do  me  much  harm. 
I  '11  treat  you  better  in  future  ;  and  then  per- 
haps you  wont  hate  me  so  much.  Shake 
hands,  will  you  ?" 

And  another  of  Morris's  rough  grasps  was 
bestowed  on  his  younger  adversary.  It  touched 
Cola's  quick  feelings  more  than  any  punish- 
ment could  have  done. 

"  Thank  you,  Morris,"  said  he,  in  a  low  re- 
morseful tone,  and  then  rushed  up  stairs  and 
shut  himself  up  in  his  own  little  room.  He 
had  received  a  lesson  which  he  never  forgot 
while  he  lived. 

i* 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOLIDAYS    AT    SCHOOL. 

It  was  a  fortunate  thing  for  Cola,  that  im- 
nediately  after  the  examination  which  had 
rought  him  to  such  shame,  his  school-fellows 
dispersed  for  the  holidays.  The  only  two 
who  were  to  remain  at  Doctor  Birch's  were 
those  whose  houses  were  so  far  distant,  Ar- 
chibald and  Cola.  To  the  former  it  was  a 
sore  disappointment  when  he  received  the 
news  that  another  year  must  pass  before  he 
would  again  see  his  mountain  home.  He  had 
longed  so  after  it,  as  the  summer  grew  ;  and 
many  a  time  had  he  talked  to  Cola  and  his 
other  playmates,  of  all  the  sports  he  expected, 
mountain  rambles  and  fishing,  and  riding,  gal- 
loping over  the  free  heather,  on  his  little  black 
pony.  Poor  Archibald  !  and  he  had  to  give 
up  all  this  for  a  month  spent  in  the  formality 
and  dulness  of  Doctor  Birch's  academy.  But 
he  knew  this  was  only  because  his  father  was 
poor,  and  the  journey  would  be  such  an  ex- 


HOLIDAYS    AT    SCHOOL.  43 

pense  ;  and  he  was  well  aware  that  the  dear 
mother  whose  pride  he  was,  and  the  gentle 
sister  who  longed  to  hear  "  English  news"  from 
brother  Archy,  would  be  as  disappointed  as 
himself.  So  he  tried  to  forget  it,  and  look  quite 
contented,  when  the  rest  of  the  boys  were  mer- 
rily  going  home. 

Every  one  seemed  sorry  to  leave  him,  and 
Morris  Woodhouse,  as  he  galloped  off  with  his 
father's  groom  behind  him,  said  he  would  soon 
come  and  fetch  his  former  rival  to  spend  a-  day 
or  two  with  him  at  Westwood  Park.  Archi- 
bald  thought  his  promise  was  not  likely  to  be 
fulfilled  ;  but  he  thanked  Morris,  and  felt  glad 
that,  at  all  events,  there  was  no  enmity  between 
them  now.  And  then,  when  all  the  boys  were 
gone,  McKaye  went  back  to  the  deserted 
schoolroom.  It  looked  dull  and  dark  and  mis- 
erable. 

*'  Four  long  weeks  in  this  place  !  whatever 
shall  I  do  with  myself?"  sighed  Archibald. 

His  sigh  was  echoed  from  the  darkest  cor- 
ner ;  and  there,  crouched  down  out  of  sight,  sat 
poor  Cola.  No  one  had  noticed,  or  spoken 
to  him.  He  felt  thoroughly  desolate  ;  and 
when  he  lifted  up  his  head,  there  were  the 
marks  of  two  large  tears  down  his  cheeks. 


44  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

Archy  saw  that  there  was  one  person  in  the 
world  more  miserable  than  himself.  With  the 
sudden  impulse  of  good  feeling,  he  went  up  to 
the  boy. 

"  Come,  Cola,  my  lad  !  brighten  up  !  I  am 
not  going  home  any  more  than  you.  But 
since  it  cannot  be  helped,  we  must  try  to  make 
ourselves  content.  I  am  sure  my  mother  is 
very  sorry  not  to  see  me ;  and  I  dare  say  youra 
is  too." 

"  No  !  she  is  not !"  cried  Cola,  passionately. 
"  She  does  not  want  me  to  come  to  her,  and  I 
do  n't  wish  to  go,  either." 

Archibald  looked  somewhat  surprised.  "I 
thought  that  you  were  very  fond  of  her,  as  all 
good  boys  ought  to  be." 

"  Yes  :  but  I  hate  her  now,  because  she  has 
gone  and  married  a  stranger  with  a  horrible 
English  name  ;  and  she  says  I  need  not  come 
home.  Home  !  I  have  none  now  !  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  meet  that  man  she  has  married  ! 
Do  you  know  what  we  do  in  Italy  to  those 
whom  we  hate,  and  who  have  injured  us  ?" 

"  Give  them  a  horsewhipping !"  suggested 
Archibald. 

"  No  !"  cried  Cola,  with  his  eyes  glaring. 
"  But  we  wait  quietly,  in  the  night,  and  stab 


HOLIDAYS   AT    SCHOOL.  45 

them,  and  throw  them  into  the  river.  That 
was  what  my  grandfather — " 

"  Then  your  grandfather  was  a  very  wicked 
man,  and  I  will  not  have  anything  to  say  to 
you,  if  you  talk  in  that  way,  you  little  ruf- 
fian !"  said  Archy,  as  he  walked  away,  with 
infinite  displeasure  in  his  countenance. 

Cola  was  softened  in  a  moment.  His  angry 
ttiood  changed.  He  took  Archibald's  hand, 
and  promised  to  think  no  more  of  such  things. 
Then  McKaye  spoke  to  him  quietly  and  gravely 
on  the  wickedness  of  revenge.  First,  as  being 
a  great  sin ;  and  also  as  bringing  its  own  pun- 
ishment upon  the  head  of  the  avenger  himself. 

"Cola,"  said  he,  "  I  '11  tell  you  a  story  which 
my  father  once  told  me,  when  I  had  been  wish- 
ing to  have  my  revenge  on  a  fellow  who  spoiled 
my  fishing-rod  on  purpose  to  vex  me.  There 
was  once  a  bad  man,  who  hated  almost  every 
body,  except  an  only  son,  of  whom  he  was 
very  fond.  Well,  he  had  one  enemy,  whom 
he  hated  most  of  all,  for  some  injury  done 
many  years  ago ;  and  one  day  he  laid  wait  for 
him  behind  a  hedge  to  shoot  him  :  but  just  as 
he  cocked  the  pistol,  it  caught  in  the  hedge, 
and  went  off".  And  who  do  you  think  it  killed  ? 
Not  his  enemy  J  but  his  own  son,  who  was 


46  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

walking  quietly  along  the  road.  '  And  so,'  said 
my  father,  when  he  had  told  me  this,  '  never 
wish  for  revenge  !  for,  depend  upon  it,  the 
punishment  always  comes.'  " 

Cola  turned  pale.  Archy  had  not  said  any- 
thing  about  the  incident  of  the  book  :  but  the 
Italian  knew  that  it  was  in  his  mind  ;  and  he 
felt  ashamed  of  having  aijain  shown  the  evil 
feeling  that  was  so  deeply  rooted  in  his  mind. 
Archibald  saw  that  his  words  were  not  thrown 
away  ;  and,  willing  to  change  the  current  of 
the  boy's  thoughts,  he  proposed  that  they  should 
stroll  down  the  village  :  and  off  they  set  to- 
gether. 

It  was  strange  to  observe  how  much  the  calm 
and  equable  temper  of  McKaye  influenced  the 
impulsive  dispositon  of  Cola.  Though  opposite 
in  many  things,  they  seemed  to  agree,  as  Fos- 
ter, the  wit  of  the  school,  observed,  "like  a 
dove-tailed  joint."  Tlie  one  bond  of  union 
was  probably,  as  Archibald  had  at  first  said,  in 
their  both  being  strangers.  But  now  being 
left  quite  alone,  their  characters  blended  and 
harmonized  ;  and  their  pursuits  necessarily 
grew  much  the  same.  Tlieir  characters,  also, 
became  mutually  improved.  Cola's  warm 
openheartedness  tempered  Archibald's  reserve; 


HOLIDAYS    AT    SCHOOL.  47 

and  McKaye's  steady  good  sense  guided  the 
inconsiderate  passion  which  the  younger  boy 
had  acquired  from  his  birth,  climate,  and  edu- 
cation. 

The  two  friends  contrived  to  spend  the  holi- 
day time  without  half  the  dulness  they  ex- 
pected. There  were  the  long  rambles  in  the 
fields,  where  Archibald,  country-born,  and 
country-bred,  showed  to  Cola  many  wonders, 
of  which  the  boy  never  dreamed  in  his  stately 
Roman  home :  the  quiet  sunny  afternoons 
spent  over  some  pleasant  book,  which  the  elder 
read  and  explained  wherever  Cola's  still  im- 
perfect English  failed  ;  the  garden  stroll  in 
the  twilight,  a  time  for  confidential  walks  and 
talks  about  many  subjects,  which  had  been 
almost  forbidden  in  the  school  at  large,  so  ter. 
rible  is  ridicule  to  boys.  But  now  Cola  ven- 
tured to  talk  about  his  old  home,  and  his  nurse 
Mona,  and  all  the  wonders  of  beautiful  Rome, 
its  pictures,  and  its  statues.  Upon  these  the 
enthusiastic  boy  dwelt  with  an  earnestness 
which  would  have  shown  to  a  more  acute  ob- 
server than  Archibald  the  inward  tendency  of 
his  mind,  though  still  so  young. 

But  though  McKaye  did  not  quite  enter  into 
all  Cola's  feelings,  he  felt  boyhood's  natural 


48  STORY   OF   A   GENIUS. 

curiosity  to  hear  about  far  countries  ;  and  was 
interested  and  pleased  in  listening  to  his  young 
companion.  After  a  while,  Cola  even  took 
courage  to  talk  about  the  subject  which  had 
excited  the  mirth  of  the  schoolfellows,  and 
many  a  tale  did  he  tell  Archibald,  of  the  an- 
cient  honors  of  the  Monti  family.  The  boy 
was  a  true  Italian  even  in  his  pride.  In  this, 
McKaye  felt  most  sympathy  with  the  "  little 
fellow,"  (as  he  still  called  the  small-limbed 
delicate  boy,)  for  it  was  a  weak  point  of  his 
own.  Many  an  hour  was  spent  over  such  talk 
by  the  two  boys  ;  so  different,  and  yet  alike  ; 
for  each — one  in  his  Northern,  the  other  in  his 
Southern  home — had  been  brought  up  in  the 
same  solitude,  with  ideas  of  life,  and  of  the 
world,  more  speculative  than  real. 

Still,  in  all  these  conversations,  the  difference 
of  character  showed  itself.  While  Cola  re- 
counted with  delight  the  history  of  those  great 
men  who  had,  either  as  soldiers,  statesmen, 
or  poets,  shed  a  glory  on  their  ancient  name, 
Archibald  spoke  of  those  sterling  honest  men, 
in  whom  Scottish  records  abound,  who  had 
fought  for  the  right,  either  with  hands,  with 
tongue,  or  pen,  or  perhaps  all  three  ;  and  of 
those  earnest  active  minds,  who  had  worked 


HOLIDAYS    AT    SCHOOL.  49 

their  way  to  success  by  their  own  exertions 
and  strength  of  purpose. 

"  After  all,"  Archibald  would  say,  when 
they  had  held  a  long  discussion  on  this  topic,  "  I 
don't  know  but  that  to  set  to  work  for  oneself, 
and  get  to  be  something  great  on  one's  own  ac- 
count is  better  than  to  have  a  long  string  of 
dead  ancestors." 

So  spoke  Archibald's  good  common  sense  ; 
but  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  that  two  such 
young  heads  should  settle  clearly  a  point 
which  has  puzzled  many  a  wise  and  grey- 
haired  one. 

However,  with  all  those  plans  for  amuse- 
ment, Cola  and  Archy  passed  the  holidays 
without  any  quarrelling,  and  with  very  little 
dulness.  Once  the  Italian  was  left  to  his  own 
resources,  for  Morris  remembered  his  promise, 
and  came  to  fetch  Archibald  to  visit  him. 
But,  somehow,  McKaye  never  felt  quite  com- 
fortable in  the  large  splendid  house  ;  perhaps 
his  pride  fancied  that  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  ostentation  in  his  school-fellow's  hospitality, 
and  he  came  back  with  pleasure  to  school 
and  to  Cola's  joyful  welcome. 

Thus  almost  before  they  thought  the  month 
had   gone   by,  the   holidays  were   over :   the 


50  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

Doctor  came  from  his  London  trip,  and  by  de- 
grees all  his  young  flock  were  gathered  together 
around  him.  School-business  berjan  again  ; 
there  were  some  new  faces,  and  there  wa 
much  for  the  old  pupils  to  hear  and  relate  ; 
so  that  Cola  and  his  adventure  were  entirely 
forgotten.  A  great  change  had  come  over  the 
boy :  he  had  learned  to  think  and  to  reason, 
whereas  before  his  only  guides  were  his  feel- 
higs.  He  had  acquired  a  measure  of  self-con- 
trol, and  in  every  way  was  different  from  the 
"  new  boy,"  who,  six  months  before,  had  been 
by  turns  abused  and  ridiculed.  He  was  grow- 
ing "in  wisdom  and  stature." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE     TOTJNG    CARICATURIST. 

When  Cola  Monti  had  been  a  year  at  Dr. 
Birch's,  he  had  contrived  to  make  for  himself 
a  good  position  in  the  school.  He  had  not 
fought  his  way  to  this,  as  most  boys  are  obliged 
to  do,  but  he  had  gained  it  by  his  quick  talents, 
his  readiness  to  oblige,  and  his  open,  frank, 
cheerful  temper.  True,  all  these  good  quali- 
ties  did  not  burst  forth  at  once ;  but  came  out 
by  degrees.  When  his  laziness  was  once  con- 
quered, the  boys,  aye,  and  Dr.  Birch  too,  found 
out  that  the  little  foreigner  bade  fair  to  be 
quite  as  clever  as  Morris  Woodhouse.  And 
when,  no  longer  repressed  by  ill-usage,  his 
naturally  blithe  temper  showed  itself;  the  rest 
acknowledjred  that  there  was  not  a  merrier 
fellow  in  the  school  than  the  little  Italian. 

Cola  in  time  became  universally  liked,  even 
more  so  than  his  steady  friend  Archibald. 
Every  one  respected  the  sensible,  persevering, 
right-thinking  Scottish  boy,  but  all  chose  the 


53  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

merry  Cola  for  a  playmate  or  a  confidant. 
Archibald  looked  on  all  this,  and  his  sincere 
and  truly  affectionate  heart  felt  right  glad. 
He  liked  Cola  heartily ;  and  the  regard  he  had 
shown  to  the  poor  friendless  boy  remained 
constant  to  the  pet  of  the  school .  And  it  was 
requited  by  Cola  with  the  most  unbounded 
affection.  He  never  forgot  the  old  times  when 
Archy  was  his  only  defender  :  and  perhaps 
McKaye  too  thought,  with  a  little  justifiable 
self-complacency,  that  he  had  himself  been 
the  first  upholder  and  counsellor  of  the  boy 
who  had.  now  so  many  friends. 

One  day  Cola's  schoolfellows  made  a  dis. 
covery,  which  raised  the  young  Italian  at 
once  to  the  height  of  popularity. 

"  What  are  you  about,  King  Cole  ?"  said 
Forster,  trying  to  peep  over  his  slate  :  Cola, 
by  a  natural  school-boy  transition,  had  de- 
generated into  this  nickname,  which  was 
thought  most  ingenious  and  applicable  to  such 
"  a  merry  old  soul"  as  the  little  Italian. 
"You  have  not  done  your  sums  yet  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  I  have  !"  answered  Cola.  "  I  'm 
only  amusing  myself  now." 

"  Let  me  see  !" 

"  Wait  a  minute,  and  you  shall,"  he  whis- 


THE    YOUNG    CARICATURIST.  53 

pered  ;  "  that  is,  as  soon  as  the  Doctor  has  left 
the  schoolroom." 

And  that  very  desirable  event  having  taken 
place,  Cola  turned  the  slate  round,  and  showed 
Forster  a  capital  caricature  of  himself.  In- 
deed, so  like  was  it  as  to  feature,  that,  but  for 
the  irresistibly  comical  expression,  it  could 
hardly  be  called  a  caricature,  Forster  being  a 
remarkable  ugly  boy,  though  his  good  temper 
and  wit  atoned  for  his  plainness. 

There  was  a  general  burst  of  laughter  and  ap- 
plause ;  for  nothing  delights  boys  so  much  as  a 
good  caricature  of  a  playmate.  Every  one  likes 
to  quiz  another,  though  it  is  a  different  matter 
when  the  joke  is  directed  against  himself.  How- 
ever, Forster  stood  it  out  as  well  as  he  could. 

"Bravo,  King  Cole!  you're  a  dangerous 
fellow,"  cried  he.  "  Come,  try  your  hand 
again ;  give  us  a  specimen  of  Jacob  Lee." 

"  Stand  up,  Lee,  and  let  him  see  you,"  was 
the  cry  ;  and  Jacob,  a  shy,  stupid  boy,  with 
a  long  nose  and  lanky  hair,  was  placed  to  be 
sketched,  amid  shouts  of  laughter.  Another 
and  another  followed  :  heads  of  all  kinds  were 
added,  each  minute  garnishing  the  long  rule- 
of-three  sum  with  curious  marginal  oddities. 
At  last  Cola  grew  more  daring. 

5* 


54  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

"Stand  off,  boys,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  draw 
the  old  Doctor  for  you." 

This  was  irresistible  ;  and  when  the  Doc- 
tor stood  out  in  relief  from  the  slate,  in  all  his 
peculiarities — his  stiff  collar,  his  upright  hail, 
and  his  spectacles,  the  likeness  was  such  that 
the  boys  gave  a  general  hurrah.  So  much 
noise  did  they  make,  and  so  intent  were  they, 
that  no  one  heard  the  door  open,  until  the  ori- 
ginal of  the  portrait  looked  over  Cola's  shoulder 
and  beheld — himself  I 

It  was  a  terrible  moment  in  schoolboy  annals. 
The  Doctor  looked,  frowned,  glanced  round  at 
the  young  rebels,  then  again  at  the  slate. 
Whether  it  was  that  natural  vanity  made  him 
feel  rather  pleased  to  see  the  only  likeness  of 
himself  which  had  ever  been  taken,  or  whether 
Cola's  sketch  had  less  of  caricature  than  nature, 
it  is  impossible  to  say ;  but  Doctor  Birch 
smiled — absolutely  smiled !  He  was  a  good- 
tempered  man,  and  the  boys  knew  it ;  they 
took  advantage  of  it  sometimes,  the  naughty 
fellows  !  So  the  smile  gradually  went  round, 
until  it  became  a  laugh,  and  the  schoolmaster 
could  not  help  laughing  too. 

"  So  this  is  the  way  you  amuse  yourselves, 
boys,"  said  he  at  last.     The  culprits  knew  his 


THE    YOUNG   CARICATURIST.  55 

ire  was  not  very  great,  or  else  he  would  have 
said,  "gentlemen."  One  and  all  they  begged 
forgiveness. 

"  Please,  sir,  we  did  not  mean  any  disre- 
spect ;  and  it  is  such  a  good  likeness." 

"  Silence  !  Let  me  hear  no  more  of  this," 
said  Dr.  Birch,  as  gravely  as  he  could.  "  And, 
Cola  Monti,  another  time,  make  game  of  your 
schoolfellows  if  you  choose,  but  not  of  your 
master." 

So  the  doctor  went  away ;  but  from  that 
time  the  popularity  of  Cola  was  established 
more  than  ever.  His  talents  were  in  constant 
requisition  :  every  quaint  head,  every  oddity  of 
expression  was  made  the  subject  of  his  pencil, 
and  gradually  the  slate  was  cast  aside  for  the 
dignity  of  paper  and  chalk.  All  the  boys  in 
their  turn  underwent  the  ordeal  of  having  their 
peculiarities  brought  to  light,  all  except  Archi- 
bald McKaye.  No  persuasions  could  induce 
Cola  to  make  a  caricature  of  his  friend  ;  he 
always  found  some  excuse  or  other  to  put  it  off. 
At  last  the  boys  teased  him,  and  said,  Archy's 
face  was  beyond  his  skill. 

"  Give  me  ten  minutes,  and  you  shall  see," 
answered  Cola. 

Archibald    looked    surprised,    and    rather 


58  STORY   OF   A    GENIUS. 

vexed ;  for  one  of  his  weaknesses  was,  that 
he  could  not  bear  being  laughed  at ;  however, 
he  took  his  station.  Cola  finished  tlie  sketch, 
but  it  was  no  caricature :  it  was  a  capital  like- 
ness of  Archibald's  thoughtful  head,  with  the 
soft  curling  hair,  and  the  calm,  serious  eyes. 

"  Why,  Cola,  you  ought  to  be  an  artist," 
cried  the  boys,  when  they  saw  it. 

Cola  smiled,  and  his  eyes  kindled.  "  I  will 
try  !"  he  said  in  his  own  heart,  and  from  that 
day  he  drew  no  more  caricatures. 

There  was  a  person  who  came  to  the  school 
every  week,  to  give  lessons  to  some  of  the 
boys.  He  was  a  poor  country  drawing-master ; 
poor,  in  every  sense,  having  no  idea  of  art  be- 
yond making  pencil  sketches  of  cottages,  that 
looked  always  tumbling  down,  children  with 
immense  heads,  and  ladies  with  hands  no 
larger  than  their  noses.  But  even  the  slight 
instruction  that  he  could  give,  it  was  impossible 
for  Cola  to  obtain. 

"Why  don't  you  learn  of  Mr.  White?"  the 
boys  were  always  asking  him.  And  Cola  was 
too  proud  and  too  sensitive  to  let  them  know, 
that  beyond  the  payments  to  Doctor  Birch,  his 
mother,  or,  rather,  her  avaricious  husband, 
would  bestow  no  other  advantages  on  the  father- 
less boy.     But  by  observation,  and  by  casual 


THE   YOUNG   CARICATITRIST.  57 

inquiries  of  the  other  boys,  Cola  learnt  the  man- 
ner  of  handling  the  chalk,  and  much  other  use- 
ful information.  Besides,  his  naturally  correct 
eye  aided  him  more  than  bad  teaching  would 
have  done,  so  that  he  probably  lost  nothing  from 
missing  the  advantages  he  envied  so  much. 

After  a  while  there  came  some  further  help. 
One  of  the  boys  brought  the  intelligence  that 
a  printshop  had  been  set  up  in  the  village. 
This  was  indeed  a  novelty  to  all :  to  Cola  it 
was  glorious  news.  He  carried  in  his  memory 
faint  ideas  of  the  pictures  which  he  had  seen 
in  his  childhood,  in  the  great  city  of  Art. 
Many  and  many  a  time  had  he  talked  to  Archi- 
bald of  the  marvellous  paintings  which  had 
dazzled  his  young  mind  when  his  father  took 
him  through  the  Vatican,  and  the  Sistine 
chapels.  He  could  not  understand  them  then  ; 
but  he  now  knew  they  were  wonderful  and 
beautiful.  He  read  about  them  in  some  stray 
books  which  had  found  their  way  to  the  school, 
and  tried  hard  to  arrange  and  give  form  to 
these  faint  memories  of  childhood.  With  these 
exceptions,  the  boy  had  no  guide  whatever  in 
this  strong  bias  of  his  mind,  for  the  worthy 
doctor  had  not  a  picture  or  an  engraving  in  his 
house.  Therefore  the  printshop  was  quite  a 
godsend  to  young  Cola. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COLA  MEETS   A  FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN. 

As  soon  as  the  half-holiday  came  round, 
Cola  and  Archibald  set  off  to  look  at  the  new 
attraction  in  the  village.  One  or  two  of  the 
rest  went  with  them,  for  Cola's  drawings  had 
quite  "  set  the  fashion,"  as  is  not  unusual  in 
schools,  where  if  one  leads,  several  others  are 
sure  to  follow.  Hence,  chalks  and  sitters  had 
latterly  been  at  a  premium ;  and  many  atrocities 
in  art — round  eyes,  and  crooked  noses,  had  been 
perpetrated  by  the  younger  boys,  who  must 
try  to  imitate  the  others.  Moreover,  the  keeper 
of  the  printshop  was  quite  surprised  to  see  so 
many  schoolboys  stopping  at  his  window  daily. 

Cola  went  with  a  heart  which  expectation 
caused  to  beat  faster  than  usual.  The  day 
boarders  had  brought  him  descriptions  of  all 
the  pretty  chalk  heads  which  had  taken  their 
fancy — those  one  sees  in  every  print  window. 
Cola  almost  knew  by  heart  their  accounts  of 
the  shepherd-boy  with  his  pipe  •  and  the  girl 


COLA    MEETS    A    FELLOW-COTTNTRYMAN.       59 

kissing  her  parrot ;  and  the  old  man  with  a 
beard,  and  a  long  knife  which  he  held  over 
a  young  girl.  Opinions  were  divided  as  to 
whether  the  latter  was  meant  for  Jephthah,  or 
Virginius,  or  Agamemnon ;  indeed,  there  had 
been  three  pitched  battles  on  the  subject. 

But  the  print  which  charmed  Cola  was  none 
of  these.  It  was  an  engraving  of  Raphael's  Holy 
Family,  that  exquisite  oval  which  repx'esents  the 
Virgin,  Child,  and  St.  John,  and  is  called  the 
"Madonna  della  Sedia,"  the  Madonna  of  the 
chair,  because  the  great  artist  painted  it  from  a 
beautiful  peasant- woman,  whom  he  saw  sitting 
at  her  cottage-door,  with  her  children  beside  her. 

"  Ah,  I  know  this — I  remember  this  !"  said 
the  young  Italian,  while  his  eyes  glistened 
with  delight.  "  One,  like  it,  used  to  hang  at 
the  foot  of  my  bed,  when  I  was  a  little  child, 
and  nurse  Mona  always  said  her  prayers  be- 
fore it  every  night." 

*'  That  was  very  wrong,  Cola,"  observed  the 
serious  Archibald. 

Cola  did  not  hear  him,  he  was  absorbed  in 
delight.  "  How  beautiful — how  beautiful  it 
is !"  he  said  softly.  "  Look,  Archy,  at  the 
child's  tiny  feet  and  the  hands ;  I  must  learn 
how  to  draw  a  hand." 


60  STORY    OF    A   GENIUS. 

*'  What  an  odd  striped  shawl  the  Virgin 
wears !  It 's  just  like  some  of  the  patterns  in 
our  mill,"  cried  one  of  the  boys,  who  came 
from  Manchester. 

Cola's  lip  curled.  "  He  sees  only  a  shawl, 
when  there  is  such  a  face  !  Jacob  Lee,  you  will 
never  be  a  painter." 

"  I  do  n't  want  to  be  one,"  said  Jacob  Lee. 
*«I  had  rather  by  half  keep  father's  cotton- 
mill." 

The  boy-artist — he  was  an  artist  in  his  soul 
already — turned  away.  It  grated  on  his  mind 
to  hear  such  words,  and  he  could  hardly  hide 
his  sovereign  contempt  for  the  speaker.  As 
they  walked  homeward,  it  took  all  Archibald's 
good  sense  and  right  judgment  to  argue  the 
point  satisfactorily,  and  prove  to  the  enthusi- 
astic Cola  that  a  man  might  be  a  very  excellent 
man  in  his  way,  without  any  feeling  for  Art  at 
all ;  and  that  a  good  master  of  a  cotton-mill 
might  make  quite  as  useful  a  member  of  society 
as  a  great  painter.  Archibald  was  always  a 
long-headed  boy ;  and  he  thought  himself  bound 
to  act  as  Mentor  to  the  young  Italian.  On  the 
other  side.  Cola  invariably  listened  to  him  with 
patience  and  deference,  for  Archibald  had  long 
won  both  his  respect  and  attachment. 


COLA    MEETS    A    FELLOW -COTTNTRYMAN.       61 

Cola  and  Archy  had  walked  together  a  little 
in  the  rear  of  the  others,  when,  on  approaching 
the  school-gates,  they  saw  their  playmates 
standing  in  a  group. 

"  Cola,  Cola,  come  here  !  We  want  you," 
was  the  cry. 

Cola  ran  forward,  and  saw  that  they  were 
collected  round  a  poor  organ-boy,  one  of  those 
wandering  minstrels  who  are  so  common  in 
London  streets,  and  are  now  and  then  met 
with  far  down  in  the  country.  The  poor  fel- 
low lay  on  the  ground,  with  his  eyes  half  closed 
and  his  head  leaning  on  his  organ.  He  was 
not  asleep,  but  seemed  thoroughly  exhausted 
with  weariness  or  illness.  His  brown  cheek 
was  thin  and  wasted,  and  his  poor  meagre 
hands  seemed,  as  the  phrase  runs,  "nothing 
but  skin  and  bone." 

*'  We  have  spoken  to  him  and  he  does  not 
answer,"  said  one  of  the  boys.  "  You  must 
take  him  in  hand.  Cola,  for  he  is  very  likely  a 
countryman  of  yours." 

Cola's  warm  heart  throbbed  in  sympathy ; 
he  leaned  over  the  poor  boy,  and  said  some 
words  to  him  in  Italian.  The  little  foreigner, 
half-fainting  as  he  was,  caught  them ;  he 
started,  looked  round  as  if  he  were  dreaming, 

6 


62  STORY   OF   A   GENIUS. 

and  his  eyes  fell  upon  Cola,  who  spoke  to  him 
again.  Never  was  there  such  a  change  as 
that  which  came  over  the  poor  boy's  face.  It 
was  positively  lighted  up  with  rapture :  he 
could  not  speak,  but  he  took  Cola's  hand  and 
kissed  i*^^  with  all  the  passionate  energy  of  his 
clime. 

"Ask  him  what  is  the  matter  with  him," 
said  the  thoughtful  Archibald.  "  He  seems 
ill ;  perhaps  we  might  do  something  for  him." 

"  lo  moro — di  fame.  I  ain  dying  of  hun- 
ger," murmured  the  organ-boy,  in  answer  to 
Cola's  question. 

The  boys'  sympathy  was  aroused ;  and  soon 
two  or  three  of  them  ran  to  the  house,  and  re- 
turned with  great  lumps  of  holiday  cake,  which 
the  famished  boy  devoured  with  avidity. 

"  This  will  never  do  for  a  poor  fellow  who 
is  starving,"  said  McKaye.  "  Run,  Cola,  and 
beg  the  cook  to  give  us  a  good  slice  of  bread 
and  a  bowl  of  milk ;  that  is  much  the  best  fo. 
him." 

The  restoratives  succeeded,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  boys  had  the  gratification  of  seeing 
their  protege  sit  up  and  look  around  him. 

"  Now,  Cola,  ask  him  what  his  name  is,  and 
where  he  comes  from,  and  all  about  him,"  cried 


COLA    MEETS    A    FELLOW-COITNTRYMAN,       63 

they,  thinking  this  little  adventure  made  quite 
an  agreeable  diversion  in  the  monotony  of 
school-boy  life. 

Cola,  excited  by  the  old  home-memories, 
which  the  picture  he  had  just  seen  had  first 
awakened,  spoke  again  to  his  young  country 
man,  while  his  lips  trembled  over  that  long- 
unuttered  native  tongue.  He  soon  learnt  that 
the  boy's  name  was  Giuseppe  Fontana ;  that 
he  had  been  going  through  the  country  '.vith 
his  organ,  when  he  fell  sick  of  a  fever,  and 
had  never  been  well  since.  That  he  had 
walked  a  long  way  that  day  with  his  organ  at 
his  back :  but  no  one  would  listen  to  his  play- 
ing, or  give  him  a  halfpenny,  so  that  he  could 
get  no  food,  and  had  sat  down  on  the  road-side 
utterly  exhausted. 

Young  people  are  generally  ready  to  believe ; 
and  theirs  is  a  happy  credulousness.  None  of 
the  boys  doubted  the  poor  Italian's  tale  ;  in- 
deed it  was  sufficiently  proved  by  his  appear- 
ance, which  was  worn  and  wretched  in  the  ex- 
treme. And  when  he  looked  up  and  began  to 
speak,  the  most  suspicious  observer  might  have 
seen  that  there  was  no  deceit  or  imposition  in 
that  open  child-like  face,  made  prematurely 
old  by  suffering. 


64  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

"  Ask  him  if  he  has  got  a  father,  and  why 
he  does  not  go  back  to  Italy,"  said  one  of  the 
boys  to  Cola. 

"I  am  an  orphan,  and  I  have  no  brothers 
and  sisters,"  answered  Giuseppe,  mournfully, 
in  his  broken  English.  "  I  shall  never  go 
back  to  Rome,  bella  Roma,  beautiful  Rome, 
where  I  was  born,  and  where  my  father  died." 

Cola's  dark  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  come 
from  Rome  too !"  he  answered  in  Italian ; 
"  and  my  father  is  dead  also  !  You  must  try 
to  stay  here,  and  let  me  help  you,  little  Giu- 
seppe, if  that  is  your  name.  I  wish  I  were  a 
man,  that  I  could  take  you  to  be  my  little  ser- 
vant ;  and  we  could  talk  of  home  together,  and 
you  should  never  be  hungry  any  more." 

The  organ-boy's  reply  was  a  torrent  of  grate- 
ful thanks,  uttered  in  his  own  expressive, 
though  quite  untranslateable  speech.  But  the 
beloved  Italian  tongue  fell  like  music  on  Cola's 
ear,  and  he  responded  with  equal  volubility. 

Absorbed  in  the  delimit  of  findinir  a  coun- 
tryman,  he  never  noticed  that  the  afternoon 
was  closing  in  ;  and  that,  one  by  one,  the  boys 
had  gone  away  to  their  play ;  doubtless  find- 
ing this  long  conversation  in  a  foreign  language 
not  quite  so  interesting  as  they  expected.     No 


COLA   MEETS   A    FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN.       65 

one  was  near  except  Archy,  who  sat  quietly  on 
a  stone,  fashioning  a  long  shoot  of  a  wild  rose- 
bush into  a  walking-stick.  Suddenly  the  sup- 
per-bell rang,  and  Cola  began  to  think  what  he 
could  do  with  his  protege,  who  was  not  able  to 
walk  two  miles  to  the  village  ;  and,  moreover, 
had  no  money  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging 
when  he  got  there. 

Cola  ran  to  Archibald  in  distress,  and  asked 
what  he  was  to  do. 

"  I  thought  you  would  come  to  this,"  said 
McKaye,  smiling.  "  So  I  waited  quietly  until 
you  had  done  talking  in  that  queer  tongue  of 
yours.  It  isn't  half  as  fine  as  Greek  or  Gae- 
lic !  But  come  my  boy,  don't  look  cross,  we 
must  see  what  we  can  do  for  your  new  friend." 

This  was  a  difficult  matter  to  decide.  Cola, 
with  his  warm  feelings,  thought  of  bringing  in 
the  organ-boy,  and  giving  him  his  own  supper  ; 
and  even  requesting  Doctor  Birch  to  let  him 
sleep  with  the  stable-boy,  in  the  coach-house. 
But  Archibald  shook  his  head. 

"  Just  like  you.  Cola :  you  are  a  generous, 
warm-hearted  fellow  ;  but  you  never  give  your- 
self time  to  think.  This  plan  will  not  do.  In 
the  first  place,  though  the  boy  does  come  from 
Rome,  and  you  of  course  think  him  all  that  is 

6* 


66  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

good, — very  natural  too, — you  cannot  make 
everybody  else  think  the  same." 

"  Oh,  Archy  !  how  unkind  !  I  am  sure  he  i.s 
a  good  boy,"  expostulated  Cola. 

*'  I  dare  say  he  is  a  very  honest  fellow,  but 
the  doctor  may  not  think  so ;  and  any  how,  his 
havinw  had  the  fever  would  frighten  the  old 
governor.  No,  no !  Cola,  we  must  not  bring 
him  into  the  house." 

"  What !  and  let  him  sleep  in  the  open  air, 
these  cold  autumn  nights  ?     He  will  die  !" 

Archy  thought  for  a  few  minutes.  "  I  '11 
tell  you  what  we  '11  do,  Cola.  We  will  make 
him  a  bed  in  the  barn  at  the  bottom  of  the  field. 
The  coachman  will  give  us  some  straw,  and  a 
rug ;  or  if  he  does  not  like  to  lend  that,  the 
boy  is  welcome  to  my  old  plaid.  Thus  you 
can  manage  without  offending  the  doctor,  or 
getting  yourself  into  trouble." 

"  Thank  you  !  thank  you,  dear  Archy  !  there 
is  nobody  like  you  !"  cried  Cola. 

"  'Tis  only  a  bit  of  common  sense,"  said  the 
other.  "  Now  go  and  tell  the  lad  what  we  are 
ffoinw  to  do  with  him." 

Giuseppe  was  full  of  thankfulness ;  but 
when  he  rose  up  to  walk,  his  limbs  sank  under 
him. 


COLA   MEETS    A    FELLOW-COUNTRYMAN.       67 

"  Poor  fellow  !"  said  McKaye,  compassion- 
ately, "  how  weak  he  must  be !  Well,  never 
mind  :  he  is  but  a  light  weight,  I  '11  carry  him." 
And  the  sturdy  boy  took  the  little  foreigner  on 
his  back,  and  carried  him  as  if  he  were  an 
infant.  Indeed,  Giuseppe  seemed  little  more 
than  a  child,  like  many  others  of  his  class, 
whom  one  sees  wandering  about,  doomed  to 
hardship  at  an  age  when  rich  men's  sons  are 
considered  scarce  out  of  babyhood.  The  two 
friends  made  a  comfortable  couch  for  the  poor 
little  stranger,  placed  his  organ  beside  him,  and 
left  him  to  sleep.  But  before  Cola  went  to  bed, 
he  crept  down  to  the  barn  with  a  great  piece 
of  bread  and  cheese,  which  he  had  saved  from 
his  own  supper  for  his  destitute  countryman. 
The  boy  was  just  asleep. 

"  It  will  do  for  his  breakfast  when  he  wakes," 
said  Cola  to  himself.  So  he  retired  to  rest,  a 
little  hungry  certainly ;  but  feeling  happy  in 
knowing  that  the  poor  Giuseppe  was  saved 
from  dying  of  want. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   FLAN,   AND   HOW   IT   SUCCEEDED, 

Next  morning  Cola's  first  thought  was,  as 
might  be  expected,  his  young  pi-otege.  The 
boy's  kind  heart  thrilled  with  generous  pleas- 
ure, as  he  saw  Giuseppe  sitting  up  with  a 
cheerful  face,  eating  his  bread  and  cheese ; 
and  not  looking  by  any  means  so  weak  and 
pallid  as  he  had  done  the  night  before.  Nothing 
could  equal  the  delight  and  gratitude  of  the 
poor  organ-boy,  when  he  beheld  his  protector. 
His  brown  eyes  seemed  fairly  running  over 
with  tears  of  joy. 

"  I  am  sure  he  is  a  good  honest  boy  !"  said 
Cola  to  himself.  And  he  was  right.  The 
poor  orphan  had  not  been  contaminated  by  the 
wandering  class  among  which  he  had  lived  : 
he  was,  in  truth,  deserving  of  the  kindness  he 
had  met  with. 

"  I  have  hardly  done  anything  for  you,  my 
poor  Giuseppe !"  said  Cola,  in  answer  to  his 
fervently-expressed  gratitude. 


A    PLAN,    AND    HOW    IT    SUCCEEDED,         69 

"  Yes,  you  have,  Sigiiorino  mio  ;  except  for 
you,  I  would  have  died  in  the  road.  But  that 
was  what  my  mother  said  to  me  before  I  went 
away  to  England,  and  never  saw  her  again. 
'  Seppi,' — she  always  called  me  little  Seppi, — 
*  be  a  good  boy,  and  speak  the  truth,  and  do 
not  steal,  though  you  are  ever  so  hungry,  then 
God  will  be  sure  to  send  some  one  who  will 
be  kind  to  you.'  And  so  He  sent  you,  Signo- 
rino,  to  bring  me  food,  and  keep  me  from 
dying." 

Struck  by  the  simple,  but  earnest  piety  of 
the  poor  orphan.  Cola  felt  determined  not  to 
lose  sight  of  him,  but  to  help  him  in  every 
way.  In  his  warm-hearted  resolutions,  the 
young  Italian  never  thought  how  little  a  school- 
boy of  fourteen  could  do.  Many  a  plan  had 
floated  through  his  brain  already,  but  they 
were  all  vague  and  unsatisfactory.  In  the 
midst  of  a  brilliant  scheme  to  keep  Guiseppe 
in  the  village,  and  educate  and  teach  him 
English,  Cola  suddenly  remembered  that  his 
pocket-money  amounted  to  just  ten  shillings 
per  annum,  and  that  at  the  present  moment 
his  purse  contained  the  large  sum  of  three 
half-pence. 

In  the  midst  of  these  cogitations,  while  his 


70  STORY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

little  friend  watched  his  countenance  with  the 
most  intense  anxiety,  Cola  saw  Archibald 
coming  to  the  barn. 

"  This  is  good-natured,  Archy  !"  said  Cola. 
"You  must  thank  him  too,"  he  added  in  Ital- 
ian, to  the  organ-boy,  "  for  he  carried  you  here 
on  his  back,  and  has  done  much  for  you." 

Giuseppe  looked  at  McKaye  with  grateful 
eyes,  and  uttered  many  thanks ;  but  it  was 
evident  that  his  warmest  feelings  M'cre  with 
his  own  countryman,  whom  he  watched  un- 
ceasingly. 

"  Now,  Cola,  wliat  do  you  intend  to  do  with 
your  new  pet?"  said  Archibald,  after  a  while. 

Cola  looked  puzzled   and  uncomfortable. — 
"  That  is  what  I   have  been  thinking  about 
but  I  cannot  fix  upon  anything.     Do  help  me, 
Archy !" 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  1  do  not  see  that  he 
can  stay  here  much  longer,  because  he  must 
want  food,  and  I  do  not  think  it  is  quite  fair  to 
levy  secret  contributions  on  the  Doctor's  lar- 
der,"— here  he  looked  at  the  fragments  of  the 
bread  and  cheese. 

"  I  did  not  do  that,"  murmured  Cola  blush- 
ing.    "It  was  my  own  supper." 

"  Bravo,  my  little   generous  fellow !"  said 


A    PLAN,    AND   HOW    IT    SUCCEEDED.  71 

s 

McKaye,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder ;  "  but 
you  yourself  will  get  as  thin  as  a  maypole,  if 
you  go  on  feeding  such  a  fine  bird  after  this 
fashion.  No !  we  must  think  of  something 
else.     Ask  him  what  he  intends  to  do." 

Cola  held  a  short  conversation  with  his  pro- 
tege, and  then  explained  that  Seppi  wished  to 
travel  back  to  London  before  winter,  but  that 
his  organ  was  broken  and  out  of  tune,  so  that 
nobody  would  listen  to  his  playing,  and  there- 
fore he  could  only  get  on  by  begging  his  way 
from  town  to  town. 

"  He  says  he  never  begged  in  his  life,  and 
he  feels  ashamed,"  added  Cola ;  and  Archibald 
was  convinced  of  the  truth,  when  he  saw  large 
tears  on  the  crimson  cheeks  of  the  little 
Italian. 

"  Poor  fellow  !"  he  said.  "  If  we  could 
subscribe  to  get  him  a  new  organ.  Some  of 
the  lads  have  money  to  spare,  which  otherwise 
they  would  only  waste  in  sweetmeats.  I 
thought  I  heard  Morris  Woodhouse  offering 
you  a  shilling  for  this  same  boy  last  night." 

"Yes  ;  but  I  did  not  choose  to  take  it." 

"  Cola,  Cola  !  that  was  a  bit  of  your  foolish 
pride,"  said  the  young  Mentor,  shaking  his 
head.     "  Morris  meant  kindly,  and  you  were 


72  STORY    OF    A    GENITTS. 

wrong  not  to  take  it.  But  let  us  know  what  a 
new  organ  would  cost." 

"  Five  pounds,  Seppi  says." 

"  Ah  !  we  shall  never  get  that,  so  we  must 
give  up  the  idea.  But  come,  it  is  breakfast- 
time  now.  I  think  your  Seppi  might  stay  here 
till  afternoon,  and  meanwhile  some  plan  may 
come  into  our  heads.  '  When  there  's  a  will 
there  's  a  way.'  " 

This  was  one  of  Archy's  wise  saws,  which 
he  constantly  brought  out,  and,  to  his  credit  be 
it  said,  as  constantly  acted  upon.  In  the  pres- 
ent case  he  was  not  long  before  he  proved  the 
truth  of  the  axiom. 

"  Cola,  I  've  a  thought,"  said  he,  when  the 
boys  were  taking  their  formal  noonday  stroll, 
under  the  Doctor's  guidance,  a  sway  so  easy 
that  it  allowed  a  fine  opportunity  for  conversa- 
tion, to  each  couple  which  filed  before  him. 
"Cola,  I 've  a  thought." 

"  What  about  ?" 

•'  Your  little  Italian,  of  course.  Look  here  , 
we  '11  go  to  business  in  a  systematic  manner. 
We  want  money,  which  neither  of  us  have 
got ;  the  question  is  how  to  get  it.  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  those  little  drawings  which 
you  are  always  spending  your  time  over,  would 


A    PLAN,    AND    HOW    IT  .SUCCEEDED.  73 

please  the  farmers'  wives,  about  here,  and  per- 
haps some  people  would  give  a  shilling  or  so 
for  two  or  three  of  them.  Now  you  cannot  go 
up  and  down  the  country  selling  them,  but 
Seppi  could  ;  and,  perhaps,  in  time,  he  might 
get  enough  money  to  buy  another  organ." 

"  Archy,  Archy,  how  clever  you  are  !"  cried 
Cola,  in  delight. 

"  Not  at  all  ;  only  when  a  fellow  has  a  tal- 
ent— which  I  think  you  have  in  this  sketching 
fancy  of  yours,  I  like  to  find  out  to  what  use  it 
can  be  put,  and  make  the  most  of  it." 

"  Oh  !  this  is  charming ;  I  have  plenty  of 
heads  and  figures  already  done.  There  is 
Quintus  Curtius  leaping  in  the  gulf,  and  Rom- 
ulus with  the  wolf,  and  King  John  signing 
Magna  Charta,  and  your  own  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots—" 

"Stop  a  minute,"  said  McKaye,  laughing. 
"  We  must  arrange  our  plans  a  little  more 
systematically.  These  sort  of  sketches  will 
hardly  do  for  farmers'  wives,  who  never  heard 
of  Romulus  or  Quintus  Curtius  in  their  lives. 
No  !  I  think  if  you  did  a  few  pretty  heads  of 
babies,  and  colored  them  with  red  cheeks  and 
golden  hair,  or  drew  an  old  woman  feeding 
chickens,  or  the  Doctor's  chestnut  horse,  these 

7 


74  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

would  be  much  more  likely  to  attract  the  kind 
of  purchasers  we  want  to  please." 

Poor  Cola  looked  rather  crest-fallen  ;  this 
was  by  no  means  his  taste  in  Art,  but  he  saw 
the  good  sense  which  dictated  Archibald's  ad- 
vice, and  was  soon  persuaded  that  he  was  right. 

"  Then  there  is  another  thing  that  we 
must  consider,"  went  on  McKaye,  "  the  draw- 
ings will  want  frames.  We  cannot  buy  them, 
therefore  we  must  make  them.  I  can  cut  all 
sorts  of  toys  in  wood,  and  I  do  n't  see  why  I 
could  not  make  a  picture-frame.  At  all  events 
there  is  nothing  like  trying,  and  I  '11  try  to- 
day." 

"  Excellent !  excellent !  How  thoughtful 
you  are,  Archy  !  And,  I  dare  say,  the  car- 
penter  at  the  lane-end  would  give  you  a  few 
pieces  of  wood,  because  you  cured  his  lame 
dog,  you  know." 

"  Very  likely  he  would.  And  then.  Cola, 
by  this  plan  you  would  see  your  little  country- 
man every  now  and  then,  when  he  came  to  fetch 
more  drawings,  and  you  might  have  a  talk  with 
him  about  Rome,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing." 

No  one  knew  what  a  kind  heart  lay  hid 
under  the  quiet  exterior  of  the  reserved  Scot- 
tish boy  ;  no  one  but  Cola  Monti. 


A   PLAN,    AND    HOW    IT    SUCCEEDED.  75 

The  plan  was  tried,  and  it  succeeded.  A 
few  sketches,  such  as  Archibald  thought  most 
.ikely  to  please,  were  soon  done  by  Cola  in  his 
best  style.  McKaye's  skilful  hand  made  very 
respectable  wooden  frames,  and  little  Seppi, 
being  properly  instructed,  set  off  on  his  expe- 
dition. He  had  another  means  of  getting  oa 
too  :  he  could  sing  a  few  of  his  native  ditties, 
with  his  sweet  childish  voice,  for  music  seems 
to  come  instinctively  to  the  Italians.  Many 
an  English  mother,  who  bought  one  of  his 
pretty  pictures  to  hang  over  the  fire-place  in 
the  best  room,  gave  the  young  foreigner  his 
dinner  or  his  breakfast  for  the  sake  of  his 
merry  song. 

Thus  for  many  months  this  project  went  on 
successfully.  Seppi  travelled  far  and  wide, 
and  carried  on  quite  a  flourishing  trade  with 
the  fruits  of  Cola's  skill.  Sometimes  he  even 
got  so  much  as  half-a-crown  for  a  sketch,  and 
as  he  always  brought  to  Cola's  keeping  every 
farthincr  that  he  did  not  want,  there  soon 
mounted  up  a  little  sum..  But  Seppi  did  not 
now  wish  to  buy  an  organ  ;  he  could  not  have 
borne  to  lose  sight  of  his  young  countryman, 
for  whom  he  had  conceived  the  strongest  at- 


76  STORY    OF    A    GENITJS. 

tachment ;  so  the  trade  of  the  little  wandering 
picture-dealer  still  went  on. 

Cola,  encouraged  by  success,  exerted  his  ut- 
most efforts  to  improve.  His  drawings,  one 
after  the  other,  were  more  correct  and  finished; 
and  from  a  mere  amusement  his  pencil  became 
his  chief  occupation  when  not  engaged  in 
study.  Every  book  that  he  could  light  upon, 
connected  with  Art,  was  indeed  a  treasure  ; 
and  by  daily  study  of  nature,  he  was  gradually 
forming  himself  for  his  future  destiny,  before 
he  was  yet  out  of  boyhood. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   END   OF    COLa's   SCHOOL-DAYS. 

As  one  half-year  passed  after  another,  Cola 
Monti  grew  to  be  a  tall,  clever  youth,  well 
educated,  and  pleasing  in  a  great  degree. 
Gradually,  the  school  changed,  and  new  faces 
were  seen,  filling  the  places  of  the  old  ones. 
Morris  Woodhouse  went  to  college,  and  Doctor 
Birch  talked  with  great  pride  of  his  favorite 
pupil's  success.  Archibald  McKaye  had  steadi- 
ly worked  through  his  school-days,  and  had  left 
the  confinement  of  Doctor  Birch's  school-room 
for  the  still  greater  drudgery  of  a  merchant's 
office  in  London.  But,  as  he  said  to  Cola  when 
they  parted,  "  A  man  must  work  at  something 
or  other  all  his  life  through,  and  the  sooner  he 
makes  up  his  mind  to  it  the  better." 

Cola  himself  began  to  have  many  anxious 
thoughts  about  his  future  pursuits  in  life,  for 
there  was  no  hint  of  his  leaving  school,  and  he 
had  only  seen  his  mother  once  or  twice.  Often 
and  often  when  Archibald  talked  of  his  own 

7* 


T8  STORY    OF    A    GENItrS. 

happy  home,  did  the  lonely  boy  feel  his  heart 
ready  to  break,  for  he  had  no  one  to  love  him 
or  care  for  him,  except  the  poor  Italian  boy  to 
whom  he  had  been  so  kind. 

He  still  kept  up  the  practice  of  his  beloved 
Art ;  and  sometimes  during  the  long  holidays, 
which  he  spent  at  school  alone,  vague  dreams  of 
being  a  painter  one  day  made  him  feel  happy  for 
the  time,  and  less  down-hearted  as  to  the  future. 

When  Cola  was  seventeen,  his  mother  died. 
Then  her  husband  refused  any  longer  to  de- 
fray the  expenses  of  his  step-son's  education; 
and  young  Monti  was  in  fact  turned  upon  the 
world  quite  destitute.  Doctor  Birch's  kind- 
ness, however,  interfered ;  he  proposed  that 
Cola  should  still  stay  with  him  as  a  sort  of 
usher,  to  teach  the  languages  in  which  he  was 
skilled.  It  was  a  life  strongly  opposed  to  the 
youth's  own  fancy,  for  though  clever  himself, 
Cola  had  not  the  steadiness,  and  above  all  the 
patience,  necessary  for  a  teacher.  But  he 
fully  appi'eciated  the  kindness  of  his  old  master, 
and  bravely  set  to  work  to  do  his  best. 

His  best  was  by  no  means  wonderful ;  for 
his  heart  was  not  in  it,  and  moreover  his  daily 
duties  engrossed  his  time  so  much,  that  the 
drawing  and  painting  languished.     Still  Cola 


THE  END  OF  COLa's  SCHOOL-DAYS.    79 

persevered,  for  he  remembered  his  friend  Ar- 
chibald's saying,  "  that  every  man  must  work," 
and  many  men  too,  at  duties  they  did  not  like. 
McKaye's  boyish  friendship  had  not  diminished, 
and  when  his  letters  came  occasionally,  telling 
of  a  close  London  office,  and  a  room  in  the  attic 
of  a  London  house,  looking  down  upon  a  noisy 
street,  Cola  breathed  the  fresh  country  air,  and 
thought  that,  after  all,  his  lot  was  not  so  hard 
as  Archy's. 

Nevertheless,  when  Seppi  came  to  see  his 
"young  master,"  as  he  persisted  in  calling 
Cola,  he  was  grieved  to  notice  how  pale  and 
melancholy  that  dear  master  looked,  Seppi 
had  good  news  to  tell,  having  sold  all  the  pic- 
tures, and  brought  back  a  handful  of  silver  to 
be  put  in  the  treasure-box.  Cola's  heavy  eyes 
hardly  brightened  even  at  the  success. 

"  But  I  have  something  else  to  tell  to  il  Signor 
carissimo, — the  dearest  master,"  continued  the 
Italian.  "  I  met  one  day  in  the  fields  an  odd- 
looking  gentleman,  who  was  making  drawings 
like  you  ; — only  they  were  not  half  so  pretty," 
said  Seppi  in  an  affectionate  parenthesis,  which 
made  Cola  smile. 

"  Well  what  of  that  ?  I  suppose  he  was  an 
artist." 


80  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

Very  likely,  Signor,  but  he  spoke  to  nie  in 
Italian,  and  a  noble  gentleman  I  soon  found 
him  to  be,  though  he  was  an  Englishman.  I 
showed  hull  the  pictures,  and  he  praised  them 
very  much." 

"  Did  he,  did  he  ?"  cried  Cola,  his  face  light- 
ing up  with  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  he  asked  me  who  painted 
them,  for  whoever  it  was  he  would  become  a 
great  artist  in  time.  You  see,  Signor,  I  re- 
membered his  very  words  to  tell  you  afterwards. 
And  then  seeing  him  so  kind,  I  told  him  all 
about  you,  and  how  good  you  had  been  to  me ; 
and  he  tore  off  a  leaf  from  his  book,  and  wrote 
this,  which  he  desired  me  to  give  to  you." 

Cola  seized  the  letter,  which  ran  thus : — 

"  I  know  nothing  of  you,  sir,  except  what 
the  boy  Giuseppe  Fontana  has  told  me  ;  but  if 
you  are  the  artist  who  painted  the  water-color 
sketches  I  have  just  seen,  I  would  advise  you 
to  come  to  London,  if  you  can,  and  study  regu- 
larly the  noblest  profession  under  the  sun.  I 
will,  if  I  find  you  worthy,  do  all  in  my  poor 
influence  to  advance  you.  My  name  and  ad- 
dress are — " 

It  was  the  name  of  a  first-rate  artist,  whose 
fame  had  reached  even  to  the  obscure  village 


THE    END    OF    COLa's    SCHOOL-DAYS.  81 

which  had  been  so  long  Cola's  only  home. 
The  youth's  heart  beat  with  the  wildest  joy. 

"  To  go  to  London  ;  to  be  an  artist !  oh, 
how  happy  it  would  be  !"  cried  he.  But  im- 
mediately his  countenance  fell,  for  he  remem- 
bered  that  he  had  no  money,  and  it  was  utterly 
impossible  for  him  even  to  get  to  the  metropolis 
without  being  dependent  on  charity.  The 
letter  fell  from  his  hand,  and  he  sat  down  dis- 
consolate. 

The  Italian  boy  crept  to  him.  "  Will  the 
Signor  tell  poor  Seppi  what  there  was  in  the 
gentleman's  note  to  make  him  look  so  happy 
for  a  minute,  and  then  so  sad  ?" 

Cola  told  him. 

"  And  why  should  not  the  Signor  go  to  Lon- 
don  and  be  a  great  artist  ?" 

"  Ah,  Seppi,  you  do  not  understand  these 
things.  It  would  take  money,  a  great  deal 
too,  and  I  have  none  at  all."  Cola  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands,  and  felt  that  it  would 
have  been  a  relief  to  cry,  were  he  not  ashamed 
to  be  so  little  of  a  man. 

Steppi  went  to  the  money-box  ;  it  was  one 
of  Archy's  handiwork,  with  a  little  slit  at  the 
top  just  large  enough  to  push  in  shillings  and 
half-crowns.     To  this  receptacle,  month  after 


82  STORY   OF   A    GENIUS. 

month,  had  been  committed  the  small  savings 
which  Seppi  did  not  want,  and  which  Archi- 
bald prudently  advised  should  be  kept  for  him 
"  against  a  rainy  day."  The  boy  seemed  now 
determined  to  get  at  his  property,  for  he  took 
his  knife  and  cut  the  slit  into  a  large  round 
hole,  through  which  the  treasure  within  poured 
in  a  silver  stream.  Seppi  showed  his  white 
glistening  teeth  in  a  smile  the  broadest  ever 
known,  and  his  black  eyes  seemed  dancing  in 
his  head,  as  he  filled  his  cap  with  the  silver 
coins,  and  laid  it  beside  Cola  on  the  table. 
<'See,  the  Signor  has  plenty  of  money,  and  he 
can  go  to  London  as  soon  as  he  likes,"  whis- 
pered the  faithful  Italian  to  his  beloved  master. 

The  latter  would  hardly  believe  his  eyes, 
until  Seppi  showed  him  the  money-box  ;  and 
then  he  could  not  imagine  that  the  contents 
were  so  much.  Untouched,  they  had  gone 
on,  accumulating,  from  year  to  year  until 
Seppi  counted  ten  pounds  in  silver,  on  the  table. 

Cola  was  long  proof  against  the  earnest  en- 
treaties of  his  humble  friend,  that  he  would  take 
this  money,  the  fruit  of  his  own  handiwork.  At 
last  he  saw  that  Seppi  was  becoming  deeply 
pained  by  his  refusal,  and  Archibald's  often-used 
argument  against  false  pride  rose  to  his  memory. 


li 


THE  END  OF  COLa's  SCHOOL-DAYS.    83 

On  the  other  hand,  all  the  pleasure  and  suc- 
cess of  a  life  which  had  been  his  highest  am- 
bition seemed  spread  out  before  him — to  let  the 
kind  offer  of  the  artist  whom  we  shall  entitle 
Mr.  Crome,  remain  unnoticed,  appeared  al- 
most ingratitude.  Cola  could  not  give  up  all 
for  a  mere  scruple  of  pride  at  receiving  a  favor 
from  an  inferior,  whose  greatest  pleasure  it  was 
to  bestow  it.  He  took  the  boy's  rough  hand 
in  his. 

"  Seppi,  my  good  Seppi,  you  shall  give  me 
the  money  since  you  are  so  kind,  and  we  will 
go  to  London  together." 

And  so  they  did,  as  master  and  man,  and 
not  so  utterly  unprovided  either,  for  the  good 
Doctor  Birch,  when  he  heard  the  story  and 
read  the  artist's  letter,  not  only  advised  his 
young  usher  to  go,  but  was  fully  impressed 
with  the  idea  which  had  only  lately  unfolded 
itself  to  his  mind,  that  his  late  pupil  might  be- 
come a  great  man  some  day.  Partly  out  of 
this  fancy,  but  chiefly  from  real  kindness,  the 
doctor  actually  took  a  number  of  Cola's 
sketches,  and  placed  in  his  hand  another  ten 
pounds  to  help  him  on  when  he  got  to  London. 

So  the  two  set  out  on  their  journey,  bravely 
and  hopefully.     And  they  were  right ;  for  the 


84  STORY   OF   A   GENIUS, 

grand  secret  of  success  is  a  determination  to 
let  nothing  thwart  us  in  gaining  it.  Cola  cer- 
tainly had  not  any  Whittington-like  notions  of 
London  streets  being  paved  with  gold,  and  did 
not  expect  to  find  there  a  fortune  ready  made ; 
but  he  argued,  sensibly  enough,  that  sui'ely  he 
could  work  in  town  as  he  had  done  in  the 
country,  only  with  ten  times  more  advantages. 
As  for  little  Seppi,  he  thought  in  his  simplicity, 
that  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he  could 
take  to  organ-playing  again,  for  himself  and 
his  dear  Signor. 


CHAPTER  X. 


BEGINNING    THE   WORLD. 


It  was  five  years  since  Cola  had  been  in  8 
large  town  of  any  kind.  London  he  had  neve) 
t>een  in  his  life.  He  unconsciously  looked  for 
ward  to  it,  in  that  sort  of  mysterious  curiositj 
with  which  country  people  always  regard  the 
unknown  metropolis,  as  a  grand  place,  very 
delightful,  and  rather  wicked.  Something  too 
was  added  by  the  quick  southern  imagination 
of  the  youth,  and  his  faint  childish  memories 
of  Rome,  the  only  city  he  ever  knew — Rome, 
with  her  stately  palaces  and  gorgeous  churches, 
the  queenly  capital  of  the  South,  seated  on  her 
seven  hills. 

Thoughts  like  these  passed  through  the  boy's 
mind,  when  he  found  himself  whirled  through 
the  midland  counties  in  a  second-class  rail- 
way-carriage, for  that  was  the  very  unroman- 
tic  way  in  which  the  new  aspirant  for  fame 
went  to  London  to  seek  his  fortune.  Seppi  sat 
with  him,  but  the  little  organ-boy  treated  his 


86  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

young  master  with  the  most  deferential  respect, 
and  never  spoke,  unless  he  was  addressed  first. 
At  the  commoncemont  of  their  journey,  Cola 
had  talked  to  him  a  great  deal  in  their  nativ 
language,  much  to  tlie  astonishment  and  suspi 
cion  of  a  cross-looking  old  lady  opposite,  who 
wondered  what  strange  fellow-passengers  she 
had  got,  and  how  a  nice  respectable  young 
gentleman  should  be  on  such  friendly  terms 
with  a  shabby  little  Italian  boy.  She  kept 
glancing  angrily  at  Seppi,  and  Seppi  returned 
the  compliment,  even  though  he  did  feel  rather 
shy  and  uncomfortable  in  his  new  position.  So 
there  was  a  petty  warfare  maintained  between 
them  during  great  part  of  the  journey ;  and 
peace  seemed  further  off  than  ever,  when  the 
old  lady,  who  sat  in  the  sheltered  back-scat, 
persisted  in  having  the  window  up,  though  the 
chilly  air  of  a  thorough  wet  day  pierced  to  the 
very  bones  of  the  poor  little  thinly-clad  for- 
eigner opposite. 

"  Change  seats  with  me  Seppi  ;  I  'm  older 
and  stronger  than  you,"  cried  his  good-natured 
master,  after  a  vain  expostulation  with  their 
cross  neighbor. 

But  it  was  not  likely  that  Seppi  could  con- 
sent to  anything  of  the  sort ;   he  would   have 


BEGINNING    THE    WORLD.  87 

sat  to  be  frozen  to  death,  rather  than  even  suf- 
fer his  dear  Signor's  hands  to  get  chilly.  So 
he  protested  that  he  did  not  feel  at  all  cold ; 
and  meanwhile  his  poor  little  nose  grew  bluer 
and  bluer,  and  the  rain  beat  in,  and  hung  in 
large  drops  on  his  thin  jacket,  until  his  cheer- 
ful face  began  to  lengthen  considerably,  and 
his  master  grew  thoroughly  miserable.  This 
was  rather  a  gloomy  commencement  of  their 
adventures,  and  it  made  Cola  feel  that  if  inde- 
pendence has  its  pleasures,  it  has  also  its  re- 
sponsibilities. 

"  Seppi,  how  I  wish  we  had  a  cloak  or  a 
rug  of  some  kind !  what  a  pity  we  never 
thought  of  buying  one  !"  was  his  uncomfort- 
able reflection. 

"  We  could  not  buy  everything, — that  is, 
the  Signer  could  not,  with  the  little  money  he 
had  ;  and  if  he  is  not  cold,  why  Seppi  is  quite 
satisfied,"  was  the  organ-boy's  answer,  as  he 
rolled  himself  up  in  a  corner,  and  showed 
his  white  teeth,  with  an  apparently  contented 
smile,  though,  poor  fellow,  they  were  chatter- 
ing in  his  head  all  the  while. 

Cola  Monti  then  experienced,  for  the  first 
time  since  he  had  begun  to  think  and  feel — 
not  as  a  boy  but  as  a  man — how  bitter  it  is  to 


88 


STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 


be  poor.  The  next  minute  he  learned  how 
much  bitterer  it  is  to  be  proud  as  well.  Fol- 
lowing Seppi's  eyes,  he  saw  them  rest  wist- 
fully on  a  rug  that  lay  beside  him,  the  pro- 
perty of  a  great  bluff  farmer,  who  dozed  awaj^ 
at  the  further  end  of  the  carriage  :  he  deter- 
mined to  beg  the  loan  of  it,  the  very  next  time 
the  farmer  opened  his  eyes.  But  ere  then 
pride  whispered  in  the  youth's  ear,  "Don't, 
Cola  Monti !  It  is  demeaning  yourself.  Re- 
member how  gruffly  the  fellow  answered  you, 
when  you  made  a  civil  remark  on  starting; 
think  how  he  muttered  something  about  these 
vagabonds  '  o'  furriners.'  Do  n't  trouble  your- 
self  to  ask  anything  of  him." 

Cola  hesitated,  looked  at  his  poor  shivering 
companion,  and  then,  to  use  an  expressive 
phrase,  "  put  his  pride  in  his  pocket."  He 
had  to  button  it  up  close,  though,  or  it  would 
have  crept  out  again.  At  the  next  station  the 
farmer  woke  up. 

"  Sir,"  said  Cola,  turning  very  red,  and 
speaking  hastily,  "  if  you  don't  want  that  nice 
warm  railway  rug,  would  you  have  any  ob. 
jection  to  lend  it  ?" 

"  Take  it — choke  theeself  in  it,  only  dunna 


BEGINNING    THE    WORLD.  89 

bother  me,"  grumbled  the  farmer,  turning 
round  again  for  another  nap. 

"  Thanlv  you,  sir,  but  I  do  n't  want  it  for 
myself;  't  is  for  this  poor  little  fellow  here  ; — 
he  is  so  cold  !" 

"  Eh,  what,  him  there  ?  noa,  noa,  you  're 
welcome  to  it  yoursel',  young  feller,  for  you 
looks  like  a  gentleman,  though  you  are  a  fur- 
riner,  but  I  canna  give  it  that  dirty  little 
beeijar." 

"  He  is  not  dirty,  and  he  's  no  more  a  beggar 
than  yourself,"  was  the  indignant  reply  that 
rose  to  Cola's  lips.  But  he  swallowed  his 
wrath;  Archy  had  taught  him  that  lesson.  "I 
beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  you  are  mistaken,'' 
he  said,  as  quietly  as  he  could.  "  Take  the 
trouble  to  look  at  him,  and  you  will  see  that, 
though  his  clothes  are  poor,  they  are  quite 
clean  ;  and  he  is  no  beggar,  he  is  my  little 
servant." 

"  And  pray  young  sir,"  asked  the  farmer, 
now  thoroughly  awakened,  and  rather  amused 
than  otherwise  at  the  spirit  of  the  boy,  "  pray 
what  may  you  be  yoursel'  ?" 

"Just  what  you  said — a  gentleman,"  was 
the  somewhat  lofty  answer. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  What  a  deal  of 
8* 


90  STORY    OP    A    GENIUS. 

pluck  he  has  !"  cried  Cola's  fellow-traveller, 
bursting  into  the  uproarious  laugh  which 
seems  peculiar  to  English  farmers.  "  Dunna 
be  savage,  my  fine  feller,"  he  added,  seeing 
the  youth's  brow  darken.  "No  offence,  no 
offence ;  ye  may  tak'  t'  blanket  and  welcome, 
for  that  grand  footman  o'  yourn  ;  only  mind 
he  don't  steal  it,  that's  all.  Ha,  ha!"  And 
he  very  unceremoniously  threw  the  disputed 
article  over  the  carriage  to  Cola,  who  felt 
strongly  inclined  to  throw  it  back  again  in  his 
face.  But  the  impulse  was  resisted,  and  next 
moment  poor  shivering  Seppi  rejoiced  in  the 


warm  covennij. 


The  cross  old  lady  wondered  how  some 
people  could  be  imposed  upon  by  the  brazen 
faces  of  some  other  people  ;  but  that  was  al- 
ways the  way  in  which  these  foreigners  coaxed 
John  Bull  out  of  everything. 

"  I  tell  'ee  what,  ma'am,"  said  the  farmer, 
whose  generosity  was  roused  by  opposition,  "  a 
French  chap  feels  cold  just  as  much  as  an 
Englisher,  'specially  if  he  be  a  little  un.  If 
you  've  ever  a  little  Jacky  or  Billy  o'  yer  own 
at  whome,  (which  I  dunna  think  is  the  case,  or 
you  'd  not  be  so  cross-grain'd,)"  this  was  said 
in  a  half-audible  aside,  "  ye  wunna  grumble  at 


BEGINNING    THE    WORLD.  91 

my  doin'  a  good  turn  to  this  here  lad.  Come, 
young  'un,"  continued  he,  roused  still  more 
by  the  old  lady's  contemptuous  toss  of  the 
head,  "  tak'  a  drop  o'  sommat  to  keep  thee 
warm." 

And  he  produced  a  bottle  for  Seppi's  benefit, 
who,  faint,  tired,  and  cold,  took  a  few  sips, 
and  then,  made  drowsy  by  the  dose,  and  also 
by  the  motion  of  the  carriage,  fell  comfortably 
asleep  in  the  corner.  His  burly  protector 
soon  did  the  same,  and  Cola  was  left  to  his 
own  meditations. 

He  did  not  feel  quite  so  hopeful  as  he  had 
done  a  few  hours  before,  when  crossing  fifteen 
miles  of  open  country,  which  lay  between  Doc- 
tor Birch's  house  and  the  nearest  railway-sta- 
tion, in  that  worthy  pedagogue's  own  chaise. 
Then  it  was  a  lovely  fine  morning  ;  but  it  had 
changed,  as  June  mornings  will  do,  into  a  wet 
cheerless  day,  almost  like  winter.  This,  per- 
haps, had  no  slight  effect  on  Cola's  mind,  for 
in  common  with  all  sensitive  temperaments, 
he  was  very  susceptible  to  the  influence  of 
weather.  And,  besides,  as  the  first  excite- 
ment of  the  journey  passed  away,  and  a  wear! 
ness  crept  over  him,  he  began  to  feel  the  natural 
sensations  of  one  who  has  for  five  years,  night 


92  STORY    OF    A    GENITJS. 

after  night,  gone  to  sleep  under  the  same  roof, 
and  now  wanders  from  it,  quite  uncertain 
where  he  shall  this  evening  take  his  rest.  The 
vague  project — "  seeking  one's  fortune  in  Lon- 
don"  resolved  itself  into  small  realities,  not 
quite  so  pleasant,  and  for  the  moment  he  almost 
wished  himself  back  in  the  Doctor's  school- 
room, hearing  his  class  drone  over  their  eternal 
io  sono,  til  sei,  egli  e. 

But  such  a  brave  spirit  as  Cola's  could  not 
long  think  thus.  Soon  he  drove  away  all  dis- 
appointment and  determined  to  be  happy. 
Many  a  man  has  become  moderately  content 
from  this  very  resolve.  Try  it,  my  young 
friends,  when  you  are  inclined  to  despond ;  set 
resolutely  before  you  all  the  good  fortune  that 
your  condition  affords,  and  in  most  cases  you 
will  find  that  if  it  does  not  outweigh,  it  at  least 
equals  the  bad. 

Cola  did  so.  If  on  this  miserable  wet  day 
he  was  going  to  London,  a  lad  only  seventeen, 
an  orphan,  having  in  that  great  city  but  two 
friends,  one  of  whom  he  had  never  seen — still, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  was  young,  healthy,  had 
had  a  good  education,  and  was  acknowledged 
to  possess  talent  in  his  beloved  Art ;  there  was 
his  faithful  little  servant  to  watch  over  his  com- 


BEGINNING   THE    WORLD.  93 

forts  and  cheei*  him  in  every  way  ;  and  in  his 
pocket  lay  twenty  pounds  and  the  letter  of  Mr. 
Crome.  Things  were  not  looking  so  very 
black,  after  all. 

Besides,  every  mile — no,  every  twenty  miles, 
for  in  the  lightning-railway  one  only  comits  by 
scores — brought  him  nearer  to  the  welcome  of 
Archibald  McKaye.  Cola  had  not  told  his 
friend  of  this  proposed  journey,  intending  to 
surprise  him  with  the  meeting;  and  perhaps 
withheld  partly  from  a  slight  doubt  whether  the 
ultra-prudent  Archy  would  not  consider  the 
expedition  rather  a  wild-goose  chase,  and  there- 
fore expostulate  a  little. 

"  But  when  I  am  really  there,  he  will  be  so 
glad  to  see  me  !  yes,  I  know  he  will !"  mused 
Cola ;  "  and  then  I  can  talk  so  much  better 
than  I  can  write,  and  explain  all.  He  does 
not  know  much  about  Art,  or  care  much  for  it ; 
but  he  is  a  dear,  good,  sensible  fellow,  is  Archy 
McKaye.    How  glad  I  am  he  lives  in  London  !" 

And  in  anticipating  over  this  meeting,  and 
the  somewhat  more  formidable  one  with  the 
great  unseen  artist.  Cola  found  the  train  had 
reached  Harrow,  which  he  knew  was  not  far 
from  their  journey's  end.  He  felt  a  feverish 
excitement,  and  could  not  help  peering  rest. 


94  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

k 

lessly  out  of  the  carriage  window.  It  was 
close  down  now,  thanks  to  the  hurly  farmer's 
interference.  The  di'izzly  misty  evening  only 
revealed  the  stras^lina:  outskirts  which  lie  be- 
tween  Willesdon  and  Euston  Square.  There 
could  hardly  be  a  less  imposing  entrance  to 
any  city :  it  seems  like  creeping  into  London 
the  back  way.  Cola  distinguished  small  half- 
built  streets,  work-sheds,  brickfields,  here  and 
there  a  garden,  until  gradually  the  houses  be- 
came thicker  ;  and  though  no  city  could  be 
seen  in  the  distance,  there  rose  up  the  cloud 
of  smoke  and  fog  which  perpetually  overhangs 
the  great  metropolis. 

*'  Tell  me,  Seppi,  for  you  have  been  here 
before,  tell  me,  is  that  London  ?"  cried  Cola  to 
his  young  companion,  who  now,  refreshed  by 
his  long  sleep,  began  to  rub  his  eyes  and  look 
about  liim. 

"  Si,  Signor,  yes,  master,  it  is  indeed,"  an- 
swered the  little  Italian.  "  Is  it  like  what  the 
Signor  expected  ?" — Seppi  always  addressed 
Cola  in  the  third  person,  the  customary  Italian 
form  of  showing  respect  to  a  superior. 

"Not  quite." 

"  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it :  a  smoky,  disagree- 
able, ugly  city,  is  this  Londra,  and  not  at  all 


BEGINNING   THE    "WORLD.  95 

SO  fine  as  hella  Roma."  Then  recollecting 
himself,  Seppi  added,  "  But  I  will  not  speak  ill 
of  it,  if  il  Signormo  mio  makes  his  fortune  there, 
as  indeed  he  is  sure  to  do ;  and  then  perhaps, 
when  he  is  a  great  artist,  he  will  taice  poor 
Seppi  with  him  to  see  lella  Roma  once  more." 

"  We  will  never  be  parted  ;  you  shall  go 
with  me  wherever  I  go,  my  dear  little  friend," 
cried  Seppi's  master  affectionately;  and  then 
the  simultaneous  rousing  of  their  sleepy  fellow- 
passengers,  and  the  call  outside  for  "  Tickets 
ready,  gentlemen,"  betokened  that  they  had 
come  to  their  journey's  end.  Soon  the  train 
stopped:  out  jumped  the  burly  former,  having 
acknowledged  the  thankfully-restored  rug  with 
a  careless  nod,  though  he  made  no  allusion  to 
stealing  it  now.  Out  scrambled  the  cross  old 
lady,  after  hunting  under  both  seats  for  vari- 
ous small  packages,  and  vociferously  accusing 
Seppi  of  having  sat  down  upon  a  band-box, 
which  had  been  under  her  own  feet  the  whole 
time.  At  last  Cola  and  his  protege  alighted 
also,  and  found  themselves  on  the  platform  in 
Euston  Square. 

There  was  little  doubt  of  their  being  in  Lon- 
don now.  Such  a  confusion  ! — Omnibuses 
rattling,  cabmen  shouting,  porters  jostling  to 


96  STORY   OF   A    GENIUS. 

and  fro,  clamorous  passengers  hunting  for  lug- 
gage in  every  possible  place  but  the  right  one, 
and  finding  every  one's  property  except  their 
own.  No  wonder  the  scene  bewildered  our 
two  young  foreigners,  for  even  Cola  knew  Eng- 
lish  manners  and  customs  only  through  the 
medium  of  Doctor  Birch's  academy.  He  and 
Seppi  stood  together  beside  their  small  box, 
like  two  lost  sheep  in  the  crowd :  attacked  on 
every  side  by  enquiries  concerning  omnibuses, 
cabs,  and  porters.  Cola  only  shook  his  head  ; 
he  really  could  not  tell  where  to  go  or  what  to 
do.  He  wished  he  had  written  for  Archy  to 
meet  them,  but  wishing  was  useless  now. 

At  length  his  shoulder  was  brushed  by  the 
stout  farmer. 

"  What,  my  young  fui'rineering  gentleman, 
not  gone  yet  ?  you  '11  be  turned  out  directly 
to  mak'  ready  for  another  train.  No  stopping 
and  wondering  in  a  place  like  Lon'on,  I 
reckon." 

Cola  looked  very  disconsolate,  and  Seppi  too. 

"  What 's  t' matter  ?  hast  got  na  money?" 
asked  the  blunt  but  good-natured  farmer. 

Cola's  cheek  crimsoned  :  "  Of  course  I  have, 
sir !  but  it  is  late,  and  I  do  n't  know  whore  to 
go  for  the  night ;  I  never  was  in  London  be- 


BEGINNING    THE    WORLD.  97 

fore.     Is  there  any  inn  to  which  you  can  direct, 
me  ?"  asked  he,  with  a  rather  dignified  air, 
for  he  remembered  he  was  seventeen,  and  it 
was  necessary  to  put  off  the  bo}'   and  assume 
the  man. 

"  Direct  'ee  lad  ?  Oh,  aye,  to  some  hun- 
dreds,  where  they  '11  fleece  thee  in  a  pretty 
fashion.  What  made  thy  feyther  send  thee  to 
Lon'on  all  by  thyself  ?  I  would  n't  ha'  done 
it  by  my  Dick  !" 

Tears  started  to  Cola's  eyes.  "Nor  would 
my  dear  father,  if  he  were  alive,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"  What,  that 's  it,  is  it  ?  Poor  lad,  I'm  sorry 
for  thee  !"  said  the  other,  with  compassionate 
interest  in  his  great  rough  face.  "  Gie  us  thy 
hand,  I  '11  tak'  thee  where  thee  can  stop  the 
night ;  ay,  and  that  young  Flibbertigibbet  too," 
he  added,  seeing  Cola  looked  hesitatingly  to- 
wards his  little  servant.  "  I  'm  not  afeard  of 
either  o'  yees  stealing  anything  now.  Come 
alon 


55 


And"  in  a  few  minutes  more,  the  young  ad- 
venturers  were  hoisted  on  the  top  of  an  omni- 
bus, beside  their  new  acquaintance,  who  took 
them  to  an  inn  near  Mark  Lane,  whei'e  he  in- 
variably put  up.     Unaccustomed  to  travelling 

9 


98  STORY   OF   A    GENIUS. 

as  both  boys  were,  they  felt  heartily  glad  to 
eat  their  bread  and  chesse  supper,  and  then 
escape  from  the  noisy  crowd  of  farmers  to  a 
small  attic  ;  too  tired  to  do  anything  but  go  to 
sleep.  Cola  crept  into  the  little  bed,  while 
Seppi,  unused  to  more  luxurious  habits,  gath- 
ered himself  up  in  a  ball,  something  like  a 
young  hedgehog,  and  lay  down  at  his  master's 
feet.  Both  were  soon  asleep — to  use  a  favorite 
expression  at  Doctor  Birch's — "  as  sound  as  a 
top." 

This  was  Cola  Monti's  first  night  in  London. 


CHAPTER   XL 

AN   OLD   FKIEND   IN   A   NEW   LIGHT. 

Cola  woke  the  next  morning,  dreaming  that 
he  was  at  school  again,  and  that  somehow  or 
other  his  class  was  all  composed  of  great  stout 
farmers,  Avho  would  persist  in  repeating  their 
Italian  verbs  with  a  strong  Staffordshire  accent. 
The  dream  vanished  under  the  influence  of  a 
bright  sunbeam  that  crept  through  the  small 
uncurtained  window,  and  just  reached  his 
nose.  In  London,  the  good-natured  sun  is 
more  partial  to  attic  windows  than  to  any  other, 
and  it  made  Cola's  tiny  room  quite  cheerful. 
From  thence  he  looked,  not  at  the  street,  which 
lay  many  feet  below,  but  skywards,  where, 
above  the  tops  of  the  houses,  he  could  see  the 
great  dome  of  St.  Paul's  lifting  itself  up  grand 
and  giant-like,  with  its  ball  and  cross  glistening 
in  the  clear  light  of  early  morning. 

This  was  the  first  sight  that  struck  Cola  in 
London.  His  artist-mind  felt  it  to  the  utter- 
most.    The  numberless  streets  below  seemed 


100  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

SO  solemn  and  quiet,  lying  in  the  shadow  of  the 
scarcely  risen  sun  ;  and  though  even  now  the 
sounds  of  life  were  beginning  to  stir,  they  were 
but  faint  as  yet,  while  over  the  dark  and  half- 
awakened  city  watched  its  great  temple,  already 
illumined  with  the  sunbeams.  It  was  a  scene 
that  Cola  never  forgot,  and  never  will  while  he 
lives. 

He  stood  several  minutes  at  the  window,  and 
then  crept  quietly  to  bed  again,  for  it  was  too 
early  to  rise,  and  he  did  not  want  to  disturb 
the  heavy  slumbers  of  poor  tired  Seppi.  But 
he  himself  could  not  go  to  sleep  again  ;  his 
heart  was  too  full.  He  lay  thinking  many 
deep  and  serious  thoughts,  such  as,  perhaps, 
would  never  come  into  the  head  of  a  youth  of 
seventeen,  unless  placed  in  Cola's  situation. 

My  dear  boy-readers,  you  who  have  a  father 
to  guide  you,  a  mother  to  love  you,  and  per- 
haps many  other  family  ties  to  make  you  a 
pleasant  home,  I  dare  say  you  think  it  would 
be  a  fine  thing  to  find  yourself  in  such  an 
independent  position,  with  no  one  to  restrain 
or  command  you — ready  for  any  adventure. 
Would  not  you  like  it  very  much,  instead  of 
being  under  the  rule  of  tutors  abroad,  or  when 
at  home  obliged  to  submit  to  "  the  governor"  ? 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    IN    A   NEW    LIGHT.       101 

And  yet  if  you  once  tried  the  experiment,  I 
doubt  if  you  would  not  soon  find  out,  as  Cola 
did,  that  it  is  a  desolate  thing,  to  be  one's  own 
master. 

Cola  had  a  vague  notion  that  living  at  inns 
was  expensive,  and  that  even  twenty  pounds 
would  not  hold  out  forever.  He  thousht  he 
ought  to  try  and  get  settled  somewhere  that 
very  day,  even  before  he  allowed  himself  to 
go  and  see  Mr.  Crome.  Perhaps  he  almost 
wished  to  delay  this  momentous  visit,  which, 
delicious  in  the  distance,  grew  formidable  as 
the  time  drew  near.  But  how,  in  this  wide 
London,  was  he  to  set  about  finding  a  tempo- 
rary home  ? 

"  I  wish  I  knew  where  to  go,  or  that  I  had 
somebody  to  advise  me,"  he  sighed.  And 
then  he  thought  of  sensible,  friendly  Archy 
McKaye.  "  That 's  it !"  cried  the  boy,  jump- 
ing out  of  bed  ;  "  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to 
go  to  Archy." 

He  dressed  himself  with  a  light  heart,  and 
then  awoke  Seppi.  They  both  soon  descended, 
and  after  losing  their  way  once  or  twice  in 
the  large  old  rambling  inn,  sat  down  in  the 
commercial  room  and  breakfasted.  Then  Cola, 
taking  upon  himself  all  the  responsibilities  of 

8* 


102  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

his  position,  called  for  the  bill ;  but  the  kind- 
hearted  farmer  had  paid  it  an  hour  before. 

"  I  '11  never  judge  people  by  their  outside 
appearance  again,"  thought  Cola,  repentantly. 
"  And  if  ever  I  catch  myself  indulging  in 
foolish  pride,  I  '11  smother  myself — or  it,  which 
will  perhaps  be  the  best  plan." 

So,  having  begun  the  day  with  these  two 
excellent  resolutions,  and  left  his  box  at  the 
inn,  not  without  a  hope  that  when  he  came  to 
fetch  it,  he  might  light  upon  the  good  farmer, 
and  have  an  opportunity  of  paying  the  warm 
thanks  he  owed.  Cola  set  out  for  the  office 
where  Archy  spent  his  time  from  nine  till  five 
every  day.  Seppi,  who  followed  his  master 
like  his  very  shadow,  was  not  left  behind  ; 
and  indeed  young  Monti  could  not  have 
threaded  his  way  through  the  strange,  bust- 
ling, bewildering  city  streets,  but  for  the  guid- 
ance of  his  little  servant. 

"  And  is  this  where  you  used  to  go  about 
playing  your  organ,  Scppi  ?  I  wonder  the 
noise  did  not  drive  you  crazy,"  said  Cola,  as 
they  passed  the  Bank,  and  entered  Cheapside, 
which  seemed  insufferably  close  to  the  country 
boy.  "  Oh  !  what  a  disagreeable  place  Lon- 
don is !  at  least  this  end  of  it.     How  did  you 


I 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    IN    A    NEW    LIGHT.       103 

manage  to  breathe  here,  my  poor  little  fel- 
low ?" 

"  It  was  much  worse  where  I  lived,"  an- 
swered Seppi  with  a  shudder.  "  The  Signor 
has  never  seen  St.  Giles's ;  ah !  the  horrible 
place !  And  that  cruel  master,  who  sent  us 
out  every  morning  with  our  organs — we  poor 
lads ! — and  thrashed  us  and  starved  us  at 
night,  if  we  did  not  bring  back  money  enough. 
What  a  miserable  life  it  was  !  But  the  noble 
generous  Signor  took  me  out  of  it,  and  I  will 
bless  him  every  day  until  I  die,"  gratefully 
murmured  the  little  Italian  in  his  own  lan- 
guage, which  indeed  he  generally  spoke,  only 
we  put  his  conversation  in  English,  lest  our 
readers  might  require  an  interlinear  translation. 

So  talking,  master  and  man  came  to  Bread- 
Street,  Cheapside,  where  McKaye's  address 
was. 

"  McBean,  McCulloch,  and  McGillivray,  all 
Macs,"  said  Cola,  laughing,  as  he  read  the 
names  on  the  door.  "  We  are  right,  I  know  ; 
Archy's  people  always  keep  together." 

He  entered  a  little  dark  office,  on  the  ground- 
floor  of  what  seemed  an  immense  warehouse. 
There  was  no  one  there,  but  a  dry,  dusty-look- 
mg  old   man,  perched   behind  a  high   desk. 


104  STORY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

Cola  went  boldly  up  to  him,  an^i  asked  to  see 
Archibald  McKaye. 

"  Is  it  the  new  laddie  ye  're  come  to  speer 
for  ?  Ye  're  a  freend,  may  be,"  was  the  an- 
swer, in  Scotch,  so  broad,  that,  accustomed  as 
he  was  to  Archy's  northern  speech.  Cola  could 
hardly  make  it  out.  And  the  cautious  ques- 
tioner eyed  him  over  from  head  to  foot,  appa- 
rently thinking  such  a  tall,  handsome,  gentle- 
manly youth  rather  a  novel  customer  in  Bread- 
Street. 

"I  want  to  see  Mr.  Archibald  McKaye," 
persisted  Cola  ;  "  can  you  tell  me  where  he 
is?" 

"  I  dinna  ken  that  over  weel,  and  I  canna 
waste  precious  time  in  hunting  out  our  office 
laddies.  Ye  '11  find  him  somewhere  up  above  ;" 
and  the  old  clerk  lifted  one  thumb  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  ceiling,  and  buried  his  spectacled 
nose  again  in  his  large  ledger. 

The  quick-tempered  Italian  felt  half  vexed, 
but  he  turned  to  ascend  the  mouldy  old  stair- 
case, Scppi  still  following.  At  the  top  of  the 
first  flight  he  saw,  in  the  dim  light — it  never 
seemed  to  be  clear  daylight  at  Bread-street — 
a  figure  buried  among  a  heap  of  cotton  bales. 
He  repeated  the  inquiry  for  Archy  McKaye. 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    IN    A    NEW    LIGHT.       105 

The  individual  addressed  cleared  at  a  bound 
half-a-dozen  cotton  bales,  and  stood  before 
him. 

"  Why,  Cola  Monti,  what  in  the  name  of 
fortune  brought  you  here  ?"  reached  the  boy's 
ear  in  the  most  gleeful  tones  of  Archy's  very 
own  voice,  otherwise  Cola  would  never  have 
believed  that  it  was  really  his  old  friend. 

McKaye  certainly  looked  a  queer  figure. 
He  had  grown  taller  than  ever — quite  a  man 
indeed  ;  but  he  was  very  thin,  and  his  clear 
fresh  complexion  had  become  pale  and  sodden. 
He  was  without  his  coat,  and  bits  of  white  cot- 
ton stuck  all  over  his  clothes  and  his  hair. 
At  another  time  Cola  would  have  laughed 
heartily  at  the  odd  appearance  of  his  old 
schoolmate,  but  now  his  affectionate  heart 
could  only  prompt  the  warm  hand-grasp,  and 
the  cry — 

"  Archy,  dear  Archy,  is  it  really  you  ?" 

"  Why,  I  suppose  it  is,  though  I  do  n't  look 
much  like  myself,  you  mean,"  said  McKaye, 
perhaps  rather  annoyed  for  the  moment  at  be- 
ing  found  in  such  a  trim,  for  in  his  way  he 
was  as  proud  as  Cola.  "  But  you  know,  my 
good  fellow,  I  'm  a  man  of  business  now. 
Everybody  works  here.     I  'm  not  a  bit  ashamed 


106  STORY    OF    A    GENIirS. 

of  myself,"  said  he  resolutely,  as  he  knocked 
the  cotton  fragments  off  his  clothes. 

*'  Indeed  you  need  not ;  I  am  only  too  glad 
to  see  you  anyhow,  anywhere,"  Cola  joyfully 
cried. 

"  To  be  sure ;  so  am  I.  Now,  Cola,  sit 
down  here,"  and  he  hauled  a  bag  from  the 
heap,  "  and  tell  me  what  on  earth  you  have 
come  to  London  for." 

The  explanation  was  given  as  shortly  and  lu- 
cidly as  possible.  Archy  looked  wondering — 
doubtful  :  but  except  an  unconscious  "Hem!" 
once  or  twice,  he  said  nothing  to  discourage  his 
friend's  bright  hopes  ;  he  was  too  kind-hearted. 
And  besides,  he  felt  keenly  how  pleasant  it 
was  to  look  on  an  old  face  in  this  wide  desert 
of  London.  But  ere  Cola's  story  was  quite 
ended,  there  was  a  call  above  for  "  McKaye." 

"  Business  before  pleasure  !  I  can't  stay  and 
talk  any  more,  Cola,"  said  he,  rising  hastily. 
"  Come  and  see  me  to-night  at  home — that 
is,  where  I  lodge,  I  wont  call  it  home.  Mind 
you  come  !  but  I  forgot  you  do  n't  know  your 
way."  And  he  proceeded  with  the  thoughtful 
consideration  of  his  character,  to  give  minute 
directions  for  finding  a  certain  street  in  Is- 
lington. 


AN    OLD    FRIEND    IN    A    NEW    LIGHT.       107 

"  Oh,  Seppi  will  make  it  out,"  answered  Cola. 

"  What,  my  old  friend  Seppi !  you  hav'  n't 
brought  him  with  you  ?  Come  out,  my  little 
fellow,  and  let  us  have  a  look  at  your  brown 
face !"  cried  Archy,  dragging  the  Italian  from 
the  dark  corner  where  he  had  submissively  kept 
aloof. 

"  Seppi  very  glad  to  see  English  Signor  ; 
poor  Seppi  never  forget  kind  Signor  Inglese,'^ 
stammered  the  organ-boy,  pulling  his  black 
curly  forelock,  in  acknowledgement  of  the  rec- 
ognition. 

"  Thank  you,  little  Seppi ;  only  you  make  a 
slight  mistake  as  to  the  country  :  I  do  n't  think 
I  am  any  more  of  a  Sassenach  for  living  in 
London,"  said  Archy,  rather  proudly.  His 
strong  nationality  marked  the  young  High- 
lander even  in  Bread-Street.  It  vvould  have 
gladdened  the  heart  of  the  old  father  at  Aber- 
deen, who  had  sacrificed  so  many  time-hon- 
ored family  prejudices,  before  his  own  good 
sense  and  that  of  his  excellent  boy  triumphed 
at  last,  and  the  descendant  of  no  one  knows 
how  many  great  McKayes  became  clerk  in  a 
merchant's  warehouse. 

They  descended  the  dark  creaking  staircase 
**  I  dare  say  you  think  this  a  dirty  miserable 


108  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

place,  Cola,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two  friends; 
*'  and  yet 't  is  a  great  firm,  this  of  ours  :  we  've 
^ot  ships  all  over  the  world ;  every  merchant 
in  London  knows  our  three  Macs.  Their  word 
or  bond  is  as  good  as  the  Bank  of  Ensjland. 
But  you  don't  understand  this." 

"  Not  quite,"  was  the  smiling  answer. 
"  Well,  Archy,  I  suppose  some  of  these  days 
you  will  be  a  great  merchant  too." 

"  I  will  try.  It  is  a  grand  thing  to  be  rich ; 
that  is,  when  one  makes  a  good  use  of  it,"  said 
the  conscientious  Archy.  "  It  is  pleasant,  too, 
to  send  ships  abroad,  stretching  one's  hands 
over  the  wide  world,  so  to  speak.  Yes  !  I  '11 
work  night  and  day  but  I  '11  be  a  merchani 
some  time."  And  as  McKaye  spoke,  there 
was  in  his  quiet  resolute  tone  aiM  firmly  set 
lip  an  earnest  of  that  strong  patient  energy 
which,  soon  or  late,  always  carries  out  its  end. 

Yet,  as  Cola  made  his  way  up  the  close 
dingy  street,  and  thought  of  the  little  back 
office,  the  ledger,  and  the  cotton -bags,  his 
mind,  cast  in  a  totally  different  mould,  revolted 
from  the  idea  of  a  lifetime^  a  whole  preciou? 
lifetime,  spent  in  such  scenes. 

"  Archy  may  be  right,  he  always  is,"  said 
the  young  Italian  to  himself;  "but  I  would 
rather  be  an  artist  after  all." 


CHAPTER   XII. 


HELP    IN    SEASON. 


Monti, — we  ought  to  give  him  his  surname 
occasionally,  as  he  is  growing  a  man  now, — 
had  a  whole  day  before  him,  with  nothing  to 
do.  This  was  very  irksome,  for  his  morning's 
reflections  had  wound  him  up  to  such  a  high 
pitch  of  enthusiastic  energyj  —  and  Cola's 
energy  was  generally  two-thirds  composed  of 
impulse,  which  must  begin  at  once  to  expend 
itself.  He  found  it  really  hard  to  have  to 
wander  idly  about  London  for  the  space  of  six 
hours  ;  more  especially  as  mere  outward  sight- 
seeing was  not  his  element.  An  inveterate 
sight-seer  is  generally  a  man  all  eyes  and  no 
brains. 

Cola  bethought  himself  of  a  place,  which  to 
him  contained  all  the  riches  of  London — the 
National  Gallery.  Thither  he  went,  still  fol- 
lowed by  his  ever-faithful  attendant.  And  it 
is  but  just  to  say,  that  while  many  a  fine 
young  gentleman  would  have  felt  considerably 
10 


110  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

annoyed  at  having  to  walk  through  London 
streets  accompanied  by  the  poor  little  Italian 
in  his  clean,  but  shabby  suit  of  velveteen,  Cola 
Monti  never  experienced  the  slightest  mortifi- 
cation, he  was  at  once  too  humble  and  too 
proud. 

I  shall  not  enlarge  upon  the  feelings  of  the 
boy-artist,  when  he  beheld  for  the  first  time 
this  grand  collection  of  paintings.  He  had 
seen  many  in  his  childhood  ;  but  the  memory 
of  them  was  grown  dim.  He  looked  on 
these  with  the  sensations  of  one  blind,  who 
re-enters  a  long-forgotten  world  with  his  eyes 
opened.  He  began  to  understand,  and  to  feel 
what  Art  really  was.  This  new  sense  dazzled 
and  overwhelmed  him  ;  his  heart  beat  wildly, 
he  trembled,  and  fairly  subdued  with  emotion, 
he  sat  down  in  the  darkest  corner  he  could 
find,  turned  his  face  away  into  the  shadow, 
while  the  tears  rose,  large  and  silently,  to  the 
long  lashes,  and  dropped  on  the  arm  which  he 
raised  to  hide  them. 

Now,  my  dear  readers,  I  dare  say  nine  out 
of  ten  of  you  think  Cola  Monti  a  very  foolish 
fellow — a  girl,  a  "  cry-baby,"  &c.,  &c.  The 
reason  is,  you  do  n't  understand  him,  you  nine 
excellent  fellows,  who  will,  I  trust,  grow  up 


HELP    IN    SEASON.  Ill 

respectable  members  of  society.  But  the 
tenth  of  you,  may  be  what  Cola  was — a  genius. 
The  boy's  feeling  was  perfectly  sincei'e  and 
true  to  nature  ;  that  is,  to  the  nature  of  genius. 
But  fully  to  comprehend  the  workings  of  a 
mind  like  his,  requires  one  of  similar  char- 
acter  and  power.  If  you  are  disposed  to  laugh 
at  him,  or  anyone  like  him,  think  that  possibly 
the  fault  may  be  with  your  own  selves.  And 
even  taking  the  contrary  argument,  remember 
that  the  wise  man,  while  condemning,  pities  ; 
it  is  the  fool  only  who  scoffs. 

Cola  was  roused  by  a  whisper  from  Seppi. — 

"  Signor  mio  carissimo,  look  there,  at  that 
little  old  gentleman  !  it  is  the  very  artist  whom 
I  saw,  who  wrote  the  letter.  Speak  to  him  ; 
he  has  not  seen  me,  but  he  has  been  looking 
at  the  Signor  for  a  long  time." 

And  indeed  he  had.  Cola  felt  that  this  very 
minute  the  keen  but  kindly  grey  eyes  were 
reading  him  through  and  through.  He  grew 
hot  and  cold ;  he  could  hardly  breathe.  At 
last,  with  a  desperate  courage,  he  went  up  to 
the  artist,  and  spoke  as  he  never  would  have 
spoken  but  for  the  excitement  of  the  last  ten 
minutes. 

"Sir,  Mr.  Crome,  forgive  me  if  I  am  too 


112  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

bold,  but  you  are  a  great  artist,  and  I  would 
give  everything  in  this  world  to  become  one. 
Did  you  really  mean  what  you  told  me  in  this 
letter  ?" 

The  old  painter  looked  at  the  paper,  recog- 
nized it  with  a  smile,  but  with  no  outward 
manifestation  of  surprise,  for  he  was  a  gentle- 
man of  sedate,  polished  manners  ;  a  court  art- 
ist. Then  he  glanced  at  the  youth,  noticed  the 
quivering  lip,  the  kindling  eye,  put  his  hand 
out  cordially,  but  still  composedly,  and  said, 

"Yes,  my  young  friend,  I  really  did.  Are 
you  come  to  London  to  prove  the  truth  of  both 
my  offer  and  my  prophesy  ?" 

Cola  could  scarcely  murmer  a  few  inarticu- 
late thanks. 

"  Well,  young  gentleman,"  said  the  consid- 
erate painter,  "  wait  here  half-an-hour,  and  I 
will  come  and  have  some  talk  with  you." 
And  he  moved  away  with  a  footstep  as  silken 
soft  as  his  voice  and  smile.  It  really  gave  him 
pleasure  to  find  that  the  youth  whose  beautiful 
features  and  intellectual  head  had  attracted  his 
artist-eye,  was  the  same  unknown  draughts- 
man whose  productions  had  struck  him  during 
his  country  tour. 

Mr.  Crome  was  no  enthusiastic  philanthro. 


HELP    IN    SEASON.  113 

pist,  only  a  kind  hearted  sensible  man.  He 
had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  performing 
any  grand  feat  of  generosity  towards  Cola, 
such  as  adopting  or  instructing  him.  He  had 
almost  forgotten  the  letter,  written  under  an 
impulse  of  good-natured  appreciation ;  but 
when  it  was  again  brought  to  his  memory,  he 
determined  to  keep  his  promise,  and  give  the 
young  artist  all  the  encouragement  he  could. 
Perhaps  this  determination  would  have  been 
less  warm,  had  not  Cola's  personal  appearance 
and  manners  interested  him,  for  Mr.  Crome 
was  a  gentleman  of  refined  taste.  Even  his 
Art  was  with  him  less  an  enthusiasm  than  a 
genteel  profession,  which  brought  him  under 
the  gracious  notice  of  royalty  and  nobility. 

In  half-an-hour  the  same  bland  smile  and 
low 'voice  came  to  charm  Cola's  inmost  heart. 
"  We  cannot  talk  here,  my  young  friend  ;  will 
you  accompany  me  to  my  house  ?" 

The  boy  joyfully  assented ;  Seppi,  ever 
thoughtful  and  respectful,  whispering  that  he 
would  wait  for  his  dear  Signor  in  the  gallery. 
Ere  Cola  could  believe  in  the  reality  of  his 
good  fortune,  he  stood  in  that  paradise  of  his 
dreams,  an  artist's  studio. 

The  room  was  hardly  such  as  he  could  have 
'  10* 


114  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

pictured  the  sacred  spot  where  Michael  An- 
gelo  or  Rafllielle  worked.  It  was  a  luxurious, 
elegant  apartment,  adorned  to  please  the  taste 
of  wealthy  sitters.  It  contained  many  por- 
traits,  a  few  historical  pictures,  and  casts  of 
celebrated  statues.  The  former  Cola  did  not 
notice  much,  but  over  the  two  latter  his  eyes 
lingered  with  unspeakable  delight.  Gazing  on 
them,  he  felt  his  soul  expand  :  his  countenance 
brightened,  his  tread  grew  firmer,  and  his  tim- 
idity  passed  away.  The  boy  of  genius  had 
found  his  true  element  at  last. 

Mr.  Crome  watched  his  new  .acquaintance 
with  curiosity  and  interest.  By  degrees  he 
drew  out  all  Cola's  little  history,  and  the  inter- 
est deepened  more  and  more. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  an  Italian,"  said  he. 
"  I  love  Italy  :  I  spent  many  years  there  in  my 
youth,  and  painted  many  pictures  too.  Look 
here  !"  and  he  showed  Cola  one  or  two  Nea- 
politan and  Roman  scenes,  so  vividly  pour- 
trayed  that  the  youth  almost  wept  at  the  child- 
ish memories  they  brought.  The  artist  was 
flattered,  nay,  touched.  He  laid  his  hand  on 
Cola's  shoulder,  and  said  warmly, — 

"  My  dear  boy,  you  are  of  the  right  sort. 
You  will  make  a  painter.     Now  sit  down  and 


HELP    IN    SEASON.  115 

let  us  see  how  we  are  to  set  about  it.  To  what 
branch  of  Art  would  your  taste  lead  you  ?" 

"  To  the  highest :  I  want  to  paint  great  his- 
torical pictures,"  cried  the  boy  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

Mr.  Crome  shook  his  head.  "  It  will  not  do 
in  these  days:  your  high  Art  painters  are  al- 
ways in  poverty.  Try  a  little  lower :  begin, 
as  I  did,  by  portrait-painting." 

Cola's  countenance  fell.  "I  do  not  like 
that  half  so  well.  It  is  hard  to  waste  time  in 
reproducing  ugly  faces,  when  one  longs  to 
paint  ideal  beauty."  And  then  Cola  stopped, 
confused,  for  he  remembered  the  portraits 
around  the  room,  and  one  even  on  the  easel. 

The  court-artist  looked  nettled.  "  It  must 
be  done,  though,  unless  you  prefer  to  starve. 
You  talk,  my  good  sir,  like  all  young  artists ; 
but  you  will  lower  your  tone  by  and  by,  and 
think  it  no  disgrace  to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence." 

"  Indeed  1  do  not  now,"  answered  Cola, 
humbly.  And  then  he  had  tact  enough  to 
make  no  more  apologies,  but  let  the  conversa. 
tion  change  of  itself. 

Mr.  Crome  spoke  of  various  ways  in  which 


116  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

he  could  assist  the  fortunes  of  the  young  art- 
ist, promised  to  give  him  introductions  to  sev- 
eral friends,  among  whom  were  names  so  high 
in  Art,  that  Cola  was  ready  to  dance  with  joy. 
He  also  threw  out  a  few  good-natured  hints  as 
to  the  proper  course  of  study,  advised  him  to 
go  the  British  Museum,  and  draw  from  the  an- 
tique, and  promised  to  give  him  the  necessary 
recommendation,  when  he  should  be  competent 
enough  to  enter  as  a  probationer  at  the  Royal 
Academy. 

"  And  remember  I  shall  always  be  happy  to 
see  you  here,  Signor  del  Monti ;  you  must 
allow  me  to  refi'esh  my  tongue  by  the  long-dis- 
used Italian,"  said  the  artist,  with  a  courtly 
but  pleasant  smile.  "  Still,  on  the  whole  I 
would  recommend  you  to  waive  that  sweet- 
sounding  name,  and  be  plain  Mr.  Monti." 

"  I  will  do  all  you  tell  me,  kind,  generous 
friend,"  cried  Cola,  in  a  wild  impulse  of  grati- 
tude. And  when  Mr.  Crome's  aristocratic- 
lookinsr  footman  closed  the  door  after  him,  the 
boy  walked  down  Berners  Street,  his  heart 
beating  almost  deliriously  with  hope  and  joy. 
Oh !  how  bright,  how  glorious  the  future 
looked  !  To  be  an  artist,  to  lead  a  life  among 
all  beautiful  things,  perhaps  to  rise  to  fame  ! 


HELP    IN    SEASON.  117 

He  would  not  have  exchanged  destinies  with 
the  richest  young  noble  in  the  kingdom  ! 

If  those  who  are  celebrated  in  Art  or  Liter- 
ature, who,  like  Mr.  Crome,  have  reached  "  the 
top  of  the  tree,"  would  only  think  how  little  it 
costs  them  to  stretch  out  a  helping  hand  to 
those  young  struggling  spirits  who  are  trying 
to  climb  after  them — ^^even  by  a  few  kind  words 
-r•^yhat  a  great  deal  of  happiness  they  have  in 
their  power  to  bestow. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

LAYING   THE   FIRST  STICK  IN   THE   NEST. 

It  was  like  passing  out  of  light  into  dark- 
ness, when,  a  few  hours  after  leaving  Mr. 
Crome,  Cola  found  himself  in  the  little  back- 
parlor  of Street,  Islington,  where  Ar- 
chibald had  directed  him.  In  his  anxiety,  he 
was  a  little  before  the  appointed  hour,  and  was 
not  much  surprised,  when  informed  by  a  dirty 
slipshod  servant,  that  "  Misther  McKaye  was 
not  come  in."  So  he  and  the  ever-attendant 
Seppi  sat  down  to  wait,  very  unceremoniously, 
as  the  maid  evidently  thought. 

The  time  was  that  dullest  and  most  melan- 
choly hour  in  London,  about  sunset,  and  the 
room  faced  the  east.  To  Cola  it  appeared  the 
gloomiest  he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life,  the 
dirtiest  it  certainly  was.  He  thought  Bread- 
Street  quite  delightful  in  comparison,  for  that 
was  merely  a  house  of  business,  while  this 
was  the  pretence  of  a  home.  A  very  bare  and 
dreary  home  it  looked  ;  just  the  walls,  carpet, 


LAYING  THE  FIRST  STICK  IN  THE  NEST.       119 

chairs,  and  table,  without  books,  prints,  news- 
papers, or  work.  The  only  sign  of  its  being 
inhabited  was  a  solitary  ink-stand ish,  with  both 
bottles  empty,  two  stumps  of  pens,  and  an  inch 
of  red  sealing-wax. 

There  were  a  few  knocks  at  the  door,  and 
several  young  men  came  in  successively,  stared 
at  Cola  and  Seppi,  and  then  disposed  of  them- 
selves in  various  ways.  Some  took  out  books 
and  tried  to  read  by  the  dim  light,  others 
lounged  about  talking,  or  drummed  on  chair- 
backs.  All  seemed  alike  dull,  weary,  and  dis- 
pirited. At  length  McKaye's  voice  was  heard 
in  the  hall,  and  the  hearty  welcome  and  warm 
greeting  between  the  youths  brought  back  to 
both  their  old  school-days  at  Doctor  Birch's. 

"  You  must  stay  for  tea :  I  can  ask  any  vis- 
itor I  like :  not  that  I  trouble  Mrs.  Jones  much 
in  that  way,  though,"  said  Archy,  laughing. 
"  She  's  the  mistress  of  the  house,"  he  added 
in  an  explanatory  aside.  "  All  tliese  are  young 
fellows  who  board  here,  like  myself,  clerks, 
medical  students,  and  such  like.  A  queer  set, 
though  ;  I  don't  see  much  of  them,  which  is  a 
comfort.     But  here  's  Mrs.  Jones." 

And  at  the  same  time  as  tea  and  candles, 
(or  more  properly  speaking,  the  candle,)  there 


120  STORY   OF   A   (iJENlirS. 

entered  the  cross  old  lady  of  the  railway  car- 
riage,  looking  as  cross  as  ever.  Cola  glanced 
at  Seppi,  who  had  as  usual  crept  into  the  dark- 
est corner  lie  could  find,  so  that  he  escaped 
even  the  sharp  eye  of  Mrs.  Jones.  She  recog- 
nized Cola,  however,  which  did  not  make  her 
tone  the  milder,  when  in  reply  to  Archy's  polite 
introduction,  she  observed  : — 

"  Very  happy  to  see  any  friend  of  any 
gentleman  here,  on  the  usual  terms,  of  course, 
Mr.  McKaye." 

"  Of  course,"  repeated  Archy,  somewhat 
hastily  :  he  did  not  want  his  friend  to  know 
that  this  hospitality  cost  him  half-a-crown. 
Cola's  only  impediment  to  accepting  it  was 
Seppi's  being  with  him. 

"  What,  that  little  fellow  here  ?  Really, 
Cola,  do  you  always  intend  to  carry  him  about 
with  you  in  this  way  ?'*  was  McKaye's  amused 
remonstrance. 

And  hereupon,  Mrs.  Jones  having  discov- 
ered her  old  enemy,  insisted  upon  it  that  he 
should  quit  the  parlor  for  the  kitchen.  Cola's  in- 
dignation was  fast  rising,  and  a  warfare  threat- 
ened to  break  forth,  when  Seppi  put  an  end 
to  it  by  creeping  out  at  the  hall-door,  having 
just  darted  the  fiercest  lightnings  of  his  black 


LAYING  THE  FIRST  STICK  IN  THE  NEST.       121 

eyes  at  Mrs.  Jones,   and  whispered   that   he 
would  wait  for  his  "  dear  Signer"  in  the  street. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  Archy  mildly,  as  Monti 
wanted  to  follow.  "  The  lad  will  be  much 
happier  there.  And,  Cola,  I  think  you  are 
hardly  wise  in  taking  Seppi  out  of  his  proper 
sphere.  He  is  a  good  little  fellow,  and  you 
owe  him  much  ;  but  one  should  always  take 
care  to  pay  even  debts  of  gratitude  in  suitable 
coin.  I  must  read  you  a  lecture  upon  this 
subject,  just  as  I  used  to  do  at  school.  You  '11 
not  be  vexed,  Cola  ?"  And  the  frank  pleasant 
smile  of  old  lit  up  Archibald's  face,  driving 
thence  all  the  care  wrinkles  and  the  dust  of 
Bread-Street,  and  showing  him,  as  he  was,  a 
fine  stalwart  young  Scotsman,  clear-eyed, 
clear-headed,  and  clear-hearted. 

Cola  acquiesced  cheerfully,  for  the  sterling 
good  sense  and  gentle  manners  of  his  friend 
had  still  the  same  unfailing  influence  over 
him.  When  tea  was  over,  McKay e  took  him 
up  to  his  own  bed-chamber,  where  they  could 
converse  unreservedly  and  in  quiet.  There, 
by  the  light  of  a  beautiful  full  moon,  for 
candles  were  never  plentiful  at  Mrs.  Jones's, 
the  two  youths  talked  together  over  all  their 
plans,  hopes,  and  fears. 

11 


122  STORY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

Archibald  listened  to  the  relation  of  the 
day's  adventure,  and  his  cautious  disposition 
tempered  Cola's  rather  too  sanguine  anticipa- 
tions. 

"  Mr.  Crome  seems  good  and  kind,  and  you 
ought  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  him.  I  dare 
say  he  will  help  you  a  great  deal  :  still,  Cola, 
you  must  trust  chiefly  to  yourself.  I  don't 
know  much  about  Art,  but  it  strikes  me  that 
you  will  have  years  of  hard  work  and  close 
study  before  attaining  eminence." 

"  I  know  I  shall,"  answered  Cola ;  "  neverthe- 
less! am  not  afraid.     I  '11  begin  courageously." 

Here  Archy  put  in  the  all-important  ques- 
tion, "  How  ?" 

"  I  do  n't  exactly  see,  but  Mr.  Crome  will 
show  me  the  way ;  perhaps  find  me  a  sitter 
for  a  portrait — anything  to  make  a  beginning. 
He  told  me  to  go  to  him  a^ain  next  week." 

"  My  dear  Cola,  suppose  you  begin  your 
plans  a  little  sooner  than  next  week.  Where 
are  you  going  to-night  ?"  persisted  his  matter- 
of-fact  adviser. 

Cola  did  not  know.  He  had  never  thought 
about  that.  Poor  boy  !  He  had  been  all  day 
in  a  bright  happy  dream  ;  it  seemed  almost 
cruel  of  Archy  to  wake  him. 


LAYING  THE  FIRST  STICK  IN  THE  NEST.       123 

"  You  must  live  somewhere,"  said  McKaye ; 
*'  suppose  you  were  to  come  and  live  here. 
Dame  Jones  is  not  so  bad  as  she  looks ;  she 
does  not  cheat,  though  she  is  rather  stingy. 
And  it  would  be  pleasant  for  us  to  be  together, 
wouldn't  it,  old  friend?" 

But  there  were  two  great  impediments  to 
this — the  weekly  sum  that  Archibald  paid, 
looked  serious  to  one  whose  whole  stock  in  life 
consisted  of  twenty  pounds.  And  then,  what 
was  to  be  done  with  Seppi  ? 

"  It  wont  do,  Archy ;  they  would  not  take 
the  poor  lad  in  here,  and  I  cannot  part  with 
him.  Nothing  shall  make  me  do  it,"  cried 
Cola,  resolutely,  as  if  expecting  some  opposi- 
tion.  ^ 

But  McKaye  was  too  right-minded  to  at- 
tempt anything  of  the  kind.  He  saw  clearly 
that  Cola's  reason  was  a  just  and  true  one. 
"No,  no;  you  must  not  give  up  that  noble- 
hearted  faithful  little  fellow,  and  so  you  and 
Seppi  must  set  up  together  on  your  own  ac- 
count.    Let  me  think  how  to  manage  it." 

Archy  did  think  ;  and  his  thoughts  were  as 
sensible  as  ever,  and  as  regularly  resolved 
themselves  into  deeds.  The  consequence  was, 
that   before   ten   o'clock   that  night,  the  two 


124  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

young  adventurers  were  installed  in  a  com- 
fortable room  over  the  way — half  parlor,  half 
bed-chamber. 

"  It  is  best  to  begin  with  little,"  observed 
the  prudent  Archy,  as  he  looked  round.  "  You 
have  all  here  you  want,  including  a  window 
to  the  north,  which  you  always  told  me  was 
indispensable  for  an  artist :  I  though  of  that, 
you  see." 

"  You  think  of  evei'ything,  good,  kind 
Archy  !  What  a  comfort  you  are  to  me !" 
was  the  affectionate  answer. 

"  Am  I  ?  Well,  I  can  return  the  compli- 
ment. Cola.  The  sight  of  that  little  brown 
face  of  yours  has  really  done  me  good.  One 
gets  so  weary,  and  dull,  and  cross,  in  this 
hard-working  London  life,  far  away  from 
home !  I  'm  glad  you  are  come,  little  King 
Cole,  as  that  queer  fellow  Forster  used  to  call 
you.  Do  you  remember  the  day  you  took  his 
likeness  and  mine  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  and  Cola  laughed  merrily. 

"  They  've  got  that  sketch  of  me  at  Aber- 
deen now,  and  think  so  much  of  it !  Wont  it 
be  a  valuable  production  some  of  these  days, 
when  people  talk  of  the  celebrated  artist, 
Niccolo  Monti  ?" 


LAYING  THE  FIRST  STICK  IN  THE  NEST.       125 

"  And  of  Sir  Archibald  McKaye,  the  great- 
est merchant  in  England." 

"  In  Scotland,  you  mean  :  I  'm  not  going  to 
stay  here  longer  than  I  can  help.  Well,  good 
night,  Cola." 

"And  good  night,  Archy."  The  two 
friends  shook  hands  laughingly  ;  but  the  eyes 
of  both  were  moist,  and  there  was  a  trembling 
seriousness  in  both  hearts.  They  felt  that 
they  were  no  longer  boys,  but  had  entered  to- 
gether the  responsible  duties  of  manhood. 

11* 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

SIX   months'  history, 

—Which,  my  dear  friend-reader,  seems  a  little 
time  to  look  back  upon,  especially  counting  it, 
as  you  probably  do,  from  holidays  to  holidays, — 
from  Midsummer  to  Christmas.  But  it  seemed 
very  different  to  the  solitary  youth,  struggling 
for  daily  bread  amidst  the  whirl  of  London ; 
always  finding  that  same  daily  bread  very  hard 
to  get,  and  sometimes  not  getting  it  at  all.  If 
you  could  have  seen  Cola  three  months  after 
the  evening  described  in  our  last  chapter,  you 
whould  hardly  have  recognized  the  boy.  He 
seemed  to  have  grown  ten  years  older.  Poor 
'  fellow  !  if  any  one  now  speaks  to  him  of  that 
sad  time,  he  shakes  his  head  with  a  serious 
look  and  ejaculates, 

"  Thank  God,  it  is  all  over  !" 

But  we  must  not  pass  by  this  period  quite  so 
quickly,  though  we  shall  not  dilate  upon  it — it 
is  too  full  of  pain.     Still,  one  may  draw  from 


SIX  months'  history.  127 

Cola's  experience,  the  moral  which  he  himself 
also  drew ;  viz.,  that  there  is  no  fortune  so  hard 
but  that  it  can  be  overcome  in  time,  and  with 
patience  and  perseverance. 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  Mr.  Crome  failed 
in  his  kindliness.  He  did  all  he  promised ; 
gave  Cola  introductions, — now  and  then  a  little 
employment,  and  advice  continually.  But  he 
was  a  man  of  the  world ;  a  court-painter. 
His  time  and  thoughts  were  too  fully  occupied 
to  allow  of  more  than  those  passing  kindnesses, 
which  great  people  can  so  easily  show  to  little 
ones.  Perhaps,  too,  he  had  known  no  struggles 
in  his  own  youth,  or  if  he  had,  they  were  for- 
gotten. Whenever  Cola  came  to  Berners 
Street,  Mr.  Crome  was  always  glad  to  see  him : 
many  times  he  even  thought  of  him  sponta- 
neously, and  invited  him  to  his  house,  to  meet 
other  guests  likely  to  be  of  use  to  a  struggling 
artist.  And  when  he  saw  the  graceful,  gentle- 
manlike youth  moving  in  his  well-thronged 
drawing-room,  making  acquaintances  among 
the  rich  and  celebrated — that  is,  evening  party 
acquaintances — Mr.  Crome  never  thought  of 
the  poor,  one-roomed  lodging  at  Islington,  the 
long  dinnerless  days,  occupied  in  study  which 
brought  little  pleasure,  because  no  money,  or 


128  STOBY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

spent  in  vain  search  after  work  that  would 
procure  the  bare  necessaries  of  life. 

Cola  Monti  thus  learned  the  indispensable 
lesson — that  every  young  man  who  wishes  to 
make  his  way  in  the  world  must  trust  to  him- 
self alone.  Friends  he  may  have ;  the  more 
the  better,  and  they  may  help  him  a  great 
deal,  provided  he  will  help  himself  at  the 
same  time.  Cola  depended  too  much  on  the 
influence  and  aid  of  Mr.  Crome,  and  other 
celebrated  artists,  to  whom  the  former  had  in- 
troduced him.  These  gentlemen  praised  his 
numerous  designs,  which  were  indeed  re- 
markable for  fertility  and  poetic  fancy.  They 
spoke  well  also  of  his  sketches  for  oil-paintings. 
One  or  two  of  the  most  candid,  gently  hinted 
that  he  wanted  freedom  of  hand,  and  correct- 
ness in  drawing,  and  advised  long  study  from 
the  antique  before  he  attempted  to  paint  pic- 
tures. But  still  these  were  all  "  words,  words, 
words;"  the  young  artist  found  no  work,  and 
consequently  earned  no  money.  And  every 
day  the  twenty  pounds  was  dwindling  into 
shillings,  and  still  there  were  two  growing 
youths  to  be  clothed,  lodged,  and  fed  ;  himself 
and  his  faithful  Seppi. 

What  Cola  would  have  done  without  the 


SIX    MONTHS    HISTORY.  129 

latter  during  this  period,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 
The  little  Italian  was  as  good  a  housekeeper 
as  a  girl ;  it  was  he  who  looked  after  all  the 
minor  details  which  his  master  would  have  en- 
tirely disregarded.  Many  a  time,  in  his  de- 
jection, Cola  never  noticed  the  empty  cupboard, 
and  regarded  as  little  the  sudden  manner  in 
which  it  was  filled.  Perhaps  the  mystery 
would  have  been  explained,  if  in  his  evening 
strolls  by  lamplight,  the  usual  resource  of  all 
poor  weary-hearted  London  dwellers,  he  had 
chanced  to  meet  a  little  Italian  boy,  who  went 
singing  from  street  to  street,  through  frost,  and 
fog,  and  rain,  gaining  many  stray  pence,  and 
even  silver  through  his  sweet  voice  and  simple 
manners. 

But  Seppi  never  told  his  young  master  of 
these  night  adventures,  for  he  knew  it  would 
have  wounded  deeply  Cola's  proud  and  gen- 
erous spirit,  to  think  that  even  yet  he  was 
under  obligation  to  the  little  organ-boy  whom 
he  had  rescued  from  misery.  How  much  fruit 
had  that  one  kind  deed  brought  forth  !  What 
a  mere  trifle  seemed  to  have  influenced  the 
young  artist's  destiny  !  But  so  it  often  is,  when 
we  look  back  upon  the  mysteries  of  life.  Only 
one  thing  we  know,  that  "  as  we  sow  so  shall 


130  STORY   OF    A    GENIUS. 

we  reap"  in  the  end,  whether  the  seed  be  good 
or  evil. 

And  what  had  become  of  Archy  McKaye 
all  this  while  ?  He  knew  not  the  extent  of 
Cola's  troubles,  for  the  Italian  was  too  proud  to 
unfold  them  to  a  friend,  who  was  himself  strug- 
gling so  hard.  Perhaps  he  thought,  likewise, 
that  Archibald's  character  was  too  different 
from  his  own,  to  enable  him  fully  to  sympa- 
thize with  the  keen  sufferings  of  a  sensitive 
and  disappointed  heart.  But  in  this  he  some- 
what misjudged  the  young  Scotsman,  who  had, 
in  his  reserved  and  quiet  nature,  many  a  deep 
fount  of  feeling,  not  easily  revealed.  There 
never  lived  a  more  true-hearted  fellow  than 
Archibald  McKaye. 

The  friends  did  not  see  much  of  each  other, 
for  Archy  was  at  business  all  day,  and  every 
day  too ;  there  being  no  holidays  known  at 
Bread-Street,  except  Christmas-day  and  Good- 
Friday.  And  week  after  week  found  Cola 
plying  his  crayons  at  the  British  Museum  ; 
drawing  every  day  from  an  early  hour  until 
the  liiiht  faded.  In  the  evenings  he  tried  to 
make  little  sketches  to  sell  at  small  print-shops ; 
but  they  were  rarely  taken  ;  and  when  he  had 
a  whole  heap  of  them  on  his  hands,  undisposed 


SIX  months'  history.  131 

of,  it  made  him  too  dispirited  to  go  on  working. 
Still  he  mechanically  continued  drawing  at  the 
Museum  ;  now  and  then  painting  some  small 
portrait ;  but  he  began  to  smile  bitterly  at  all 
his  day-dreams  of  being  a  great  artist.  He 
found  it  much  easier  to  starve.  And  this  was 
the  history  of  Cola's  first  six  months  in  London. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

HOW   A   BRIGHT   MORNING   WALK   PRODUCED   A. 
BRIGHT   THOUGHT. 

What,  Cola,  in  bed  still,  this  sunny  Christ- 
mas  morning !"  said  Archibald,  as  he  entered 
his  friend's  lodging. 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  get  up,"  was  the 
answer.  "  The  Museum  is  shut,  so  I  can't  go 
there  as  usual.  I  like  staying  in  bed,  if  is  so 
still  and  quiet,  one  can  doze  and  forget  the 
world  and  its  cares." 

The  disconsolate,  weary  tone  revealed  to 
Archy  much  that  he  had  before  only  suspected. 
Besides,  the  dreary  aspect  of  the  tireless  room, 
and  the  melancholy  look  of  the  pale  sallow 
face  that  lay  on  the  pillow,  confirmed  the 
tale. 

"  Seppi,  why  don't  you  make  haste  and 
light  the  fire  ?"  said  Cola,  rather  sharply. 
Then,  recollecting  himself:  "Oh,  I  forgot; 
the  lad  is  gone  out  for  breakfast,  if  he  can  get 


A   BRIGHT   MORNING   WALK,  133 

it.  You  '11  excuse  this,  McKaye ;  all  the 
world  knows  a  poor  artist  is  no  Croesus,"  he 
added  with  a  bitter  laugh. 

Archy  would  not  notice  it.  "  Come,  Cola," 
he  said  cheerfully,  "  try  and  get  up  without  a 
fire ;  you  know  the  old  rhyme — 

"  Early  to  bed  and  early  to  rise, 
Is  the  way  to  grow  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise." 

"  I  shall  never  attain  to  the  two  latter ;  so  I 
care  little  about  the  first.  The  longer  one 
lives,  the  more  ti'ouble  one  has ;  and  perhaps 
it  is  best  to  cut  the  matter  short  at  once,"  re- 
plied the  poor  youth,  whose  state  of  mind  was 
really  pitiable.  McKaye  penetrated  it  at  once, 
and  like  a  true  friend  went  silently  to  work, 
in  order  to  remedy  it.  This  time  he  abstained 
from  reading  Cola  a  lecture ;  he  knew  it  would 
not  do.  The  boy  needed  to  be  roused  and 
cheered,  not  argued  with ;  and  the  only  way 
was  to  draw  him  out  of  himself  and  his  mis- 
eries. 

"  Cola,  my  dear  fellow,  this  will  never  do  ; 
I  can  't  be  left  to  spend  a  dull  Christmas-day 
all  by  myself,  at  Mother  Jones's.  Here  is  as 
bright  a  winter-day  as  ever  shone  out  of  the 
sky,  and  I  want  to  enjoy  it  with  you.     Let  U3 

12 


134  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

both  take  a  run  out  into  the  country,  up  to 
Highgate  or  Hampstead.  I  '11  give  you  a 
Christmas  dinner,  in  some  nice  quiet  roadside 
inn,  and  we  '11  walk  home  by  star-light. 
There 's  a  first-rate  plan,  eh  !  my  boy  ?" 

"  You  are  very  good,  but  I  should  only  bore 
you.     Let  me  stay  here,  Archy,  and  rest." 

"  Well,  I  call  that  rather  too  bad,  after  I 
have  planned  the  excursion  all  this  week ' 
Why,  it  would  have  been  delicious,  just  like 
our  holidays  together  at  the  old  doctor's ! 
However,  if  you  will  spoil  my  pleasure,  you 
must.  Only,  I  '11  not  be  driven  out  alone. 
I  '11  not  stir  an  inch  all  day,"  said  Archy,  set- 
tling himself  very  composedly  on  one  chair, 
with  his  feet  on  the  other.  "  Now,  you  ill- 
natured  fellow,  go  to  sleep  again,  if  you  like  ; 
I'll  call  you  at  dinner-time." 

Cola,  miserable  as  he  was,  could  not  help 
laughing.  "  Don't  abuse  me  so,  Archy  ;  but 
indeed  I  am  very  dull  and  unhappy."  The 
laugh  ended  in  a  heavy  sigh,  and  he  put  both 
his  hands  over  his  face. 

McKaye  rose  up  and  took  them  away  gently. 
"  Why  did  you  not  tell  youf  friend  Archy  this, 
loniT  before  now  ?  Is  n't  he  as  sood  as  an  elder 
brother   to  you,  scoldings   included  ?     Come, 


A    BRIGHT    MORNING    WALK.  135 

now,  be  a  good  fellow  and  get  up ;  and  we  '11 
talk  over  the  miseiy ;  it  will  not  look  so  black 
out  in  the  open  country  as  here.  And  we  '11 
find  some  way  to  get  out  of  it,  may  be,"  said 
Archibald  affectionately. 

Cola  obeyed  him  like  a  child.  They  stayed 
until  Seppi  came  in  and  prepared  breakfast,  ol 
which  McKaye — all  praise  be  to  his  kindly 
Jt^ct  !■ — pretended  to  partake  heartily,  though 
he  was  not  in  the  least  hungry.  And  indeed 
the  frugal,  almost  nauseous  meal,  was  enough 
to  drive  hunger  away.  In  another  hour  he 
and  Cola  were  strolling  arm-in-arm  up  the 
Highgate-road. 

There  is  hardly  a  more  beautiful  walk  any- 
where near  London  than  this  same  road.  It 
looked  so  cheerful  in  the  clear  frosty  morning, 
with  its  hawthorn  and  rose-hedges  all  besprin- 
kled with  crimson-berries,  the  ground  crisp 
and  pleasant  underfoot,  and  overhead  the  bluest 
of  winter  skies.  And  then,  at  every  turn  of 
the  winding  and  hilly  road,  came  small  beau- 
tiful "  bits,"  as  Cola,  in  artist  phrase  enti- 
tled them  ; — tiny  fragments,  of  landscape,  not 
grand  indeed,  but  very  charming  and  refresh- 
ing, especially  to  one  who  for  months  had 
looked  on  nothing  but  bricks  and  mortar. 


136  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

Cola's  spirit  rose.  He  leaned  against  the 
stile  that  leads  from  the  hill  nearest  to  High- 
gate,  down  a  green  meadow  slope,  to  the  Cem- 
etery. He  breathed  the  fresh  morning  air, 
and  drank  in  with  a  painter's  eye  and  soul  the 
view  before  him.  The  full,  bounding  heart 
of  youth  beat  once  more  in  his  bosom,  and  his 
eyes  almost  overflowed.  Archy  stood  still  be- 
side him,  watching  in  glad  silence  the  change 
that  had  come  over  the  careworn  face. 

"  How  pleasant  this  is  !"  cried  Monti  at  last. 
I  begin  to  think  the  world  is  not  so  wretched 
after  all ;  I  have  a  great  mind  to  give  it  an- 
other trial.  Don't  smile,  Archy,"  continued 
he  ;  "  but  if  you  knew  what  miserable  wicked 
thoughts  I  have  had  of  late" — 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because  I  am  disappointed  in  all  I  attempt. 
It  is  very  hard  to  wait  day  after  day,  and  have 
no  chance  of  anything  but  starvation ;  and 
sometimes  Seppi  and  I  have  not  been  so  far  off 
that  already,"  said  the  youth,  his  heart  opened 
by  Archy's  evident  sympathy. 

"  My  poor  Cola,  and  I  never  knew  it !" 

"  Of  course  not,  and  you  would  not  have 
known  it  now,  only  I  am  so  down-hearted  and 
foolish,  and   you   are  so  kind  !"  cried   Cola, 


A    BRIGHT   MORNING   WALK.  137 

clasping  the  hand  which  had  folded  ilself  over 
his  in  a  friendly  pressure. 

"  This  will  never  do,  my  dear  lad  ;  I  can't 
stand  by  and  see  you  breaking  your  heart  and 
pining  away  in  this  quiet,  composed  fashion, 
until  you  give  me  the  satisfaction  of  finding 
you  a  comfortable  home  out  there,"  answered 
McKaye,  pointing  to  the  Highgate  cemetery 
before  them,  and  making  a  desperate  attempt 
at  comicality,  which  he  generally  did  when 
much  affected.  "  Just  throw  some  light  on 
the  subject,  will  you  ?  let  me  into  your  mat- 
ters a  little.  We  can  hold  a  cabinet-council 
very  conveniently  on  this  stile.  Begin,  my 
boy  !" 

And  partly  with  seriousness,  partly  by  a 
little  harmless  jesting,  Archibald  succeeded  in 
arriving  at  the  true  state  of  affairs.  He  walked 
on  in  grave  thoughtfulness  for  a  little  and  then 
said, — 

"  Cola,  it  strikes  me  you  are  on  the  wrong 
tack.  Instead  of  waiting  until  people  find  you 
emplo3mient,  (I  beg  your  pardon  for  applying 
the  term  to  Art,)  you  ought  to  look  for  it  your- 
self Do  n't  trust  any  longer  to  these  great 
folk  ;  stand  up  boldly  on  your  own  account. 
You  are  a  very  clever  fellow,  and  I  '11  never 
12* 


138  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

believe  but  that  such  talent  as  yours  will  make 
its  way." 

"  Much  obliged  to  you,  Archy,  for  your  good 
opinion ;  but  bow  am  I  to  convert  talent  into 
money  ?  I  am  not  yet  skilful  in  painting ; 
nobody  would  buy  my  daubs,  and  it  torments  me 
even  to  have  to  disgrace  myself  by  selling  such 
rubbish,  when,  with  a  little  experience,  I  might 
do  something  creditable.  What  am  I  to  turn  to, 
in  order  to  find  bread,  while  I  work  out  the 
powers  which  I  feci  I  have  within  me  ?" 

"  That  is  just  what  I  have  been  considering, 
and  this  is  my  plan.  You  know  all  the  world  is 
mad  for  illustrated  books,  and  I  am  sure  I  have 
seen  designs  of  yours  enough  to  paper  a 
room.  Don't  look  so  vexed  dear  Cola,  you 
know  my  ways.  With  such  a  fertile  imagi- 
nation and  ready  hand,  why  not  turn  wood- 
draughtsman  ?" 

"  Wood-draughtsman  !"  echoed  the  young 
artist,  rather  surprised,  and  perhaps  a  little  hu- 
miliated. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  an  excellent  profession,  and 
will  serve  until  better  times  come.  Besides, 
you  might  keep  on  with  the  painting  still !" 

"  But  I  know  no  Art-publishers  ;  and  have 
no  introductions." 


A    BRIGHT    MORNING   WALK.  139 

"  Who  cares  for  introductions  ?  My  dear 
fellow,  stand  on  your  own  feet ;  trust  to  your 
own  talents.  Never  fear  but  they  will  find 
their  proper  level.  Go  from  one  publisher  to 
another,  as  a  youth  like  you  may  do  with- 
out lowering  the  dignity  of  Art.  Take  your 
portfolio  under  your  arm,  and  your  own  genius 
will  be  your  best  introduction.  For  you  have 
..genius,  Cola,  and  I  know  and  feel  it,  though  I 
do  laugh  at  you  sometimes.  You  '11  get  work, 
never  fear.  Take  my  word  for  it,  that  a  clever 
fellow  like  you  need  never  starve,  if  with  his 
talent  he  only  adds  a  little  common  sense,  so 
as  to  show  him  how  to  use  it.  People  will  find 
out  his  value,  and  treat  him  kindly  too ;  for 
the  world,  like  a  certain  other  individual  of 
whom  I  do  n't  think  proper  to  speak,  is  by  no 
means  as  black  as  it 's  paintpd." 

Cola  laughed  merrily.  "  You  are  a  wise 
fellow,  Archy,  though  your  wisdom  comes  out 
comically  enough.  I  '11  think  over  what  you 
say." 

"  And  act  upon  it.  Cola  ?" 

"  I  will  ;  there  's  my  hand  as  a  pledge.  I 
feel  brave  already : — could  face  all  the  Art- 
publishers  in  London.  Let  me  see  ;  to-morrow 
is  Saturday  ;  and  these  English  people  eat  and 


140  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

drink  so  much  on  Christmas-day,  that  they  are 
never  thoroughly  awake  the  day  after.  But  on 
Monday  I  will  set  about  the  plan.  Dear  Archy, 
how  much  lighter  you  have  made  my  heart !" 

They  took  the  homeward  walk  by  starlight, 
as  McKaye  had  plann'd,  and  the  quiet  beau- 
tiful night  drew  their  hearts  nearer  together. 
Their  talk  comprised  the  deepest  feelings  of 
both  ;  Cola's  hopes  of  the  future,  with  all  his 
artist-dreams; — the  far-off  cottage  near  Aber- 
deen, whither  all  the  strong  home- affections  of 
the  young  Scotsman  ever  turned. 

"  You  shall  go  there  some  time.  Cola,"  said 
Archy.  "  I  long  to  show  you  my  father  and 
mother,  and  my  little  sister  Jessie.  She 's 
growing  a  woman  now,  though.  You  shal. 
take  all  their  likenesses  in  a  family  group. 
But  by  then  you  will  have  got  far  above  por- 
trait-painting, and  be  working  at  grand  histor- 
ical pictures,  with  figures  ten  feet  high — a  la 
Michel  Angelo." 

Cola's  cheerful  laugh  again  rang  through 
the  clear  frosty  air.  He  had  recovered  that 
lost  talisman  without  which  youth — especially 
youth  allied  with  genius — cannot  long  exist. 
He  could  once  more  walk  through  the  world 
erect,  for  he  had  hope  in  his  bosom. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

HOW  COLA,  TRYING  HIS   FEET,  FOUND   HE   COULD 

WALK   ALONE. 

-^In  spite  of  all  his  brave  resolutions,  Cola 
felt  somewhat  out  of  his  element,  and  decidedly- 
uncomfortable,  when  he  found  himself  trudging 
along  on  the  wettest  of  wet  December  morn- 
ings, prepared  for  the  first  time  to  make  of  his 
beloved  and  revered  Art  a  marketable  com- 
modity. This  circumstance  was  not  quite 
pleasant  to  him  ;  it  seemed  to  the  enthusiastic 
young  artist  rather  degrading  to  have  to  go 
and  ask  for  work,  like  a  bricklayer's  laborer. 
For  though  conscious  of  his  own  personal  hu- 
mility, Cola  had  a  strong  sense  of  the  dignity 
of  Art ;  and  in  those  days  our  great  painters 
had  not  yet  lent  their  hands — and  worthily,  too 
— to  elevate  public  taste,  proving  by  their  own 
example  that  real  genius  ennobles  whatever  it 
touches. 

"1  wonder  what  Mr.   Crome,  Mr.  , 

or  Mr. would  say,  if  they  saw  me  now 


142  STOKY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

and  knew  the  business  I  was  about  V  thought 
Cola,  feeling  half  ashamed.  "  And  yet  one 
must  have  bread,  and  it  is  really  no  disgrace 
for  an  artist  to  be  a  wood-draughtsman." 

Nevertheless,  when  the  youtli  found  himself 
within  the  precincts  of  one  of  those  great  pub- 
lishing house  which  were  then  beginning  to 
set  the  fashion  of  illustrated  works,  he  was 
oppressed  by  that  curious  mixture  of  pride  and 
timidity  which  marked  his  character.  During 
the  half-hour  that  he  had  to  await  the  im- 
portant interview,  his  courage  was  gradually 
oozing  out  at  his  finger-ends.  He  clutched 
his  portfolio  with  a  nervous  grasp ;  and  his 
shyness,  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case  with 
persons  of  similar  temperament,  taking  the 
form  and  outward  manifestations  of  extreme 
vanity,  he  fancied  that  all  the  eyes  of  all  the 
publislier's  clerks  were  directed  upon  him,  in 
curious  and  contemptuous  inquiry.  And  then 
his  pride  sinking  through  various  gradations 
to  the  most  perfect  self-distrust,  he  began  to 
think  himself  quite  incompetent  for  even  the 
branch  of  Art  he  had  a  few  hours  before  felt 
disposed  to  contemn  ;  and  but  for  the  shame  of 
flying  from  those  six  pair  of  optics,  he  M'ould 
certainly  have  made  a  precipitate  retreat. 


COLA    WALKS    ALONE.  143 

"  Mr. will  see  you  now,"  was  the 

dread  summons,  and  Cola  stood  in  the  pres- 
ence-chamber, his  portfolio  under  his  arm. 
The  youth  of  genius  was  now  brought  for  the 
first  time  in  an  atmosphere  of  business.  It 
positively  froze  him ;  he  quailed  beneath  the 
questionings  of  the  piercing  little  eyes,  which 
silently  awaited  his  explanation  of  the  matter 
'that  brought  him.  It  came  with  a  trembling 
hesitation  and  want  of  self-confidence,  that 
apparently  did  not  argue  much  in  the  young 
artist's  favor,  with  the  lofty  personage  he  ad- 
dressed. 

"  Have  you  drawn  much  on  wood  ?  and 
what  houses  have  employed  you  ?"  were  ques- 
tions most  natural  and  most  courteously  given, 
but  which  struck  poor  Cola  with  dismay.  His 
negative  replies  brought  back  merely  an  im- 
pressive "  hem !"  but  no  other  observation  of 
any  kind. 

Monti  opened  his  portfolio;  and  the  pub- 
lisher  turned  over,  with  a  hand  of  most  busi- 
ness-like carlessness,  the  fruits  of  many  a  long 
evening  of  artist  dreaming.  "  Patient  Grisel- 
dis,"  "  Undine,"  "  Hyperion,"  were  scanned 
with  clances  whose  indifference  was  almost 
more  disagreeable  than  the  critical  eye  of  a 


144  STOKY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

connoisseur.  Not  a  word  either  of  praise  OT 
blame  escaped  this  polile  individual ;  he  shut 
the  book  and  returned  it. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,  but  our  arrangements  for 
the  season,  with  regard  to  illustration,  are  al- 
ready completed  ;  good  morning  !" 

It  was  well  for  Cola  that  his  energy  and  de- 
termination, though  not  easily  roused,  when 
once  fairly  wound  up,  sustained  him  for  a  long 
time.  Still,  he  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  very 
much  akin  to  desperation,  when,  after  two  or 
three  disappointments,  he  entered  the  door  of 
the  last  Art-publisher  on  the  list  which  the. 
far-seeing  Archibald  had  enumerated. 

"  Well,  young  man,  what  do  you  want  ?" 
was  the  straightforward  question  of  this  per- 
sonage, an  ugly,  blunt-spoken  man.  But  there 
was  a  touch  of  good-nature  in  his  roughness 
that  made  it  infinitely  more  promising  than  the 
terrible  politeness  of  the  first  one. 

Cola  went  through  the  form  of  explanation, 
now  become  stereotyped  in  his  memory  with 
painful  vividness. 

"  Humph  !  a  young  artist ;  can't  follow  oil- 
painting,  so  condescends  to  wood — isn't  that  it  ?" 

Cola  did  not  quite  like  this  form  of  phrase, 
and  coloring  deeply,  said  so. 


COLA    WALKS    ALONE. 


145 


"  Well,  never  mind  mere  words.  Show  me 
your  drawings." 

He  examined  the  treasure-laden  portfolio  for 
a  long  time,  and,  as  Cola  fancied,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  knew  something  about  it.  The 
youth  felt  his  heart  warm  to  the  ugly  face — 
over  which  an  unmistakeable  expression  of  in- 
terest, if  not  satisfaction — seemed  gradually  to 
creep.  But  the  charm  was  well-nigh  dispelled, 
when  the  publisher  turned  suddenly  round, 
saying,— 

"  Young  man,  I  dare  say  you  think  you  are 
a  genius !" 

Cola,  much  confused,  drew  back. 

"  Well,  well,  never  mind,  I  happen  to  think 
so  too.     Give  me  your  hand." 

The  young  artist  responded  to  the  grasp,  his 
cheek  varying  from  red  to  pale  and  his  lip  al- 
most quivering  at  this  unexpected  kindness. 

'•  I  like  this,  and  this  ;  only  there  's  a  leg  out 
of  drawing,  and  here  's  a  rather  awkward  pose. 
You  see  I  know  something  about  the  matter, 
though  I  am  no  painter  myself,"  said  this  wor- 
thy individual,  who  came  to  prove  to  the  al- 
most despairing  Cola,  that  even  the  world  of  pub- 
lishers  was  a  tolerably  good  world  in  its  way. 
How  long  have  you  practised  wood-drawing  ?" 
13 


146  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

"  I  have  never  yet  tried  it,  sir." 

A  grimace  passed  over  the  ugly  face,  not  im- 
proving its  beauty.  "I  see  you  do  n't  know  much 
of  the  world,  young  man.  In  our  business, 
and  I  suppose  in  nearly  every  other,  the  usual 
way  of  trying  to  get  on,  is  by  never  acknowl- 
edging one's  unacquaintance  with  anything. 
Excuse  me,  but,  though  I  like  you  all  the 
better  for  your  candor,  it  is  rather  comical  that 
you  should  come  and  ask  for  employment  here, 
when  you  have  never  touched  a  block  in  your 
life.     Do  you  know  what  wood-drawing  is  ?" 

"  I  suppose,  like  any  other  kind  of  sketch- 
ing." 

"  Not  at  all ;  it  is  a  craft  of  itself,  requir- 
ing regular  learning  and  plenty  of  practice, 
before  you  can  get  the  knack  of  it.  Look 
here," — and  ^e  touched  one  of  Cola's  designs, 
— "you  have  a  free  hand  ;  you  sketch  boldly; 
but  such  a  bit  as  this  hatching  here  would 
drive  an  engraver  crazy." 

And  then,  with  a  patience  and  clearness  that 
did  equal  credit  to  his  good  nature  and  his  ac- 
qauintance  with  the  subject,  he  explained  to 
Monti  the  peculiarities  of  wood-drawing ;  the 
necessity  for  firm,  sharp  outline,  and  well- 
defined    shadows,     with    other    technicalities 


COLA    WALKS    ALONE. 


147 


which  are  indispensible  in  making  pencil  and 
graver  unite  together  to  produce  a  perfect 
whole. 

"  That's  the  reason  the  drawings  of  some  of 
our  cleverest  artists  look  atrocious  when  en- 
graved," said  he,  "  because  these  grand  fel- 
lows will  not  take  patience  to  acquire  what 
they  consider  a  lower  style.  I  wonder  how  the 
wbi'ld  would  get  on,  if  people  did  not  try  to 
accommodate  one  another  now  and  then ! 
There  's  a  maxim  for  you,  young  gentleman, 
if  you  are  not  above  following  it  !  and  so  you 
have  a  lesson  on  wood-drawing  and  moral  phi- 
losophy at  once." 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  both,  sir,"  an- 
swered Cola ;  but  his  tone,  though  grateful, 
was  desponding ;  and  he  began  to  re-fasten  his 
eternal  portfolio  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

The  good-natured  publisher  noticed  it. 
"  What !  faint  hearted  at  your  age  ?  really, 
fmy  young  friend,  why  do  you  pull  such  a  long 
face  on  the  matter  ?  I  hope  I  have  said  noth- 
ing to  discourage  you." 

"  You  have  said  everything  kind,  I  am  sure  ; 
but  there  seems  little  chance  for  me,  as  of 
course  I  cannot  a^k  you  to  employ  me,  whtL 
I  am  quite  incompetent  to  the  work." 


148  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

"  But  that  is  no  reason  why  you  should  re- 
main so.  I  am  not  aware  that  I  have  sent 
you  away  yet ;  so  put  down  your  hat,  and  seat 
yourself  again."     Cola  obeyed. 

"  In  plain  English,"  pursued  he  of  the  nice 
good,  ugly  face,  leaning  the  same  ill-favorea 
visage  on  his  hands,  and  bringing  it  to  a  level 
with  Cola's  beautiful  and  now  pale  counte- 
nance. "  In  plain  English,  I  have  such  droves 
of  small  artists  tormenting  me — young,  self- 
conceited  cubs,  would-be  geniuses  —  that  a 
quiet  simple-mannered  youth,  who  seems  to 
have  the  real  thing  in  him,  and  no  sham,  is 
quite  a  relief.  I  like  you.  I  would  help  you 
if  I  could ;  only  you  must  learn  how  to  help 
yourself  first.  Will  you  take  some  blocks, 
and  practice  until  you  can  draw  on  wood  well 
enough  to  suit  me  ?  You  would  soon  get  over 
the  difficulties,  with  a  little  patience  ;  and  the 
profession  is  profitable,  growing  better  and 
better  every  day." 

Cola  joyfully  assented,  his  grateful  heart 
beaming  in  his  eyes. 

"  And  now,  just  as  a  matter  of  form,  or 
rather  because  I  should  like  to  know  a  little 
more  about  you,  tell  me  your  name,  and 
whether  you  are  a  stranger  here  or  have  ac- 


COLA    WALKS   ALONE.  149 

quaintance  among  London  artists,"  questioned 
Cola's  new  friend. 

The  youth  mentioned  Mr.  Crome,  and  one 
or  two  others  of  his  friends — men  of  sufficient 
celebrity  to  astonish  the  publisher. 

"  Why  did  you  not  speak  of  this  before  ?  it 
might  have  been  of  use  to  you,"  cried  the  lat- 
ter, his  worldly  wisdom  creeping  out  in  despite 
of  his  kindliness  of  disposition.  "  Any  other 
young  man  would  have  had  these  great  names 
perpetually  on  his  tongue,  and  have  introduced 
himself  every  where  by  means  of  them." 

The  young  Italian  drew  up  his  slight  figure 
with  a  just  pride  in  himself  and  in  his  Art. 
"  If  I  am  not  considered  worth  notice  on  my 
own  account,  it  shall  certainly  not  be  by  hang- 
ing on  the  skirts  of  other  people.  As  I  de- 
serve will  I  stand  or  fall." 

"  Bravo,  Mr.  Monti !  You  are  quite  right 
in  the  main,"  was  the  involuntary  exclamation 
of  the  worthy  publisher,  as  ho  rose  to  end  the 
interview,  "  Only  you  must  not  get  too  high 
and  haught)^  until  you  are  strong  enough  lo 
stand  alone.  And  now,  take  your  blocks,  go 
and  try  your  best,  and  success  to  you  !  Good 
morning." 

"  Well,"  thought  Cola,  as  with  a  lightened 


150  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

heart  he  turned  homeward,  "  if  this  is  what 
Archy  calls  '  working  one's  way,'  and  '  stand- 
ins  on  one's  own  feet,'  I  think  I  have  made  a 
good  beginning.  It  seems  to  me  that  getting 
on  in  the  world  is  like  walking  through  a  bed 
of  nettles ;  put  your  feet  out  boldly  and  you  '11 
not  get  stung." 

This  fine  poetical  and  moral  sentiment 
brought  Cola's  walk, — as  it  does  our  chapter, 
— to  a  very  appropriate  termination. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


A   LECTURE   ON   HIGH  ART. 


It  required  every  grain  of  patience  Cola 
could  muster — and  unfortunately,  like  many 
another  genius,  he  possessed  this  necessary 
;-  commodity  in  homoeopathic  quantities — before 
he  could  succeed  in  becoming  a  tolerable  good 
wood-draughtsman.  He  had  wonderful  fertil- 
ity in  design,  and  an  imagination  that  almost 
carried  him  away  ;  but  all  these  required  to 
be  tamed  down  before  they  could  be  of  much 
use  to  him  in  the  new  handicraft  to  which  he 
had  devoted  his  pencil  for  a  season. 

Besides,  the  whole  tendency  of  his  mind 
was  for  what  Archibald  gayly  entitled,  "  the 
grand  style  and  Michel  Angelo."  He  could 
not  bear  to  descend  from  the  sublime  of  a  gi- 
gantic drawing — the  Tlieseus  or  the  Gladiator, 
for  instance, — to  the  ridiculous  of  some  small 
tail-piece  in  a  child's  book.  He  liked  to  dash 
away  with  charcoal  or  crayon,  not  sketching, 
but  building  a  man,"  as  the  Academy  pupils 


152  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

said  of  Fuseli ;  and  the  pencil  refinements  of 
wood-drawing  were  to  Cola  at  first  not  only 
disagreeable  but  almost  impracticable.  It 
would  perhaps  reflect  but  little  credit  on  the 
young  artist's  evenness  of  temper,  were  I  to 
relate  how  many  spoiled  blocks  he  sometimes 
sent  whirling  across  the  room,  vowing  that  he 
would  starve  sooner  than  torment  himself  with 
such  contemptible  work. 

But  if  he  caught  sight  of  Seppi's  thin  face, 
as  the  lad  quietly  picked  up  these  missiles, 
Cola  was  always  mollified  and  calmed  at  once. 
Sometimes  in  his  fits  of  anger  or  despondency, 
he  began  to  talk  and  think,  as  most  other 
young  and  sensitive  minds  do,  that  life  is  a 
weary  burden,  and  he  did  not  care  how  soon 
he  died.  But  then  the  gentle  loving  face  of 
his  little  countryman  was  a  silent  monitor,  pro- 
claiming the  truth, — which  these  despairing 
misery-mongers  sometimes  forget, — that  no 
one  can  go  out  of  the  world  without  leaving 
some  one  to  mourn ;  and  if  we  would  fain  die 
to  please  ourselves,  we  have  no  right,  by  such 
a  summary  exit,  to  inflict  pain  on  other  people. 

This  doctrine  was  preached  over  and  over 
again  by  Archy  McKaye,  in  his  own  dry, 
half-serious,  half-comical  manner,  which  often 


A    LECTURE    ON    HIGH    ART.  153 

touched  Cola  sensibly,  when  a  grave  discourse 
would  have  been  utterly  thrown  away.  And 
since  that  Christmas-day  ramble  the  sympathy 
between  the  two  friends  seemed  to  have  in- 
creased more  and  more,  not  only  in  kind  feel- 
ing,— for  there  it  never  failed, — but  even  in 
taste.  Cola's  little  room,  which  now  began  to 
look  a  great  deal  more  cheerful  under  the  in- 
fluence of  his  improved  fortunes,  was  per- 
petually visited  by  Archibald  ;  and  the  young 
artist  had  no  longer  any  reluctance  in  show- 
ing all  he  did,  and  in  talking  over  all  he 
thought.  Indeed,  as  he  often  said  jestingly, 
there  would  perhaps  be  a  rival  for  himself 
some  day,  for  Archibald  was  growing  quite 
learned  in  the  secrets  of  the  brethren  of  the 
brush. 

As  for  the  young  painter  himself,  he  pur- 
sued  his  noble  and  beautiful  Art  with  an  en- 
ergy and  enthusiasm  worthy  of  it,  and  of  him- 
self. He  suffered  nothing  to  allure  him  from 
it — no  idleness,  no  youthful  pleasures  ;  and  in 
his  Art-studies  he  was  daunted  by  no  difficul- 
ties. Archibald  often  laughed  when  he  found 
he  poetical  and  imaginative  Cola  plunged  in 
the  mysteries  of  some  dry  work  on  painting, 
or  making  careful  anatomical  drawings,  as  if 


154  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

the  human  skeleton  were  as  interesting  a  sub 
ject  for  the  pencil  as  the  Apollo  Belvidere. 
It  was  indeed  a  beautiful  and  touching  thing 
to  see  how  every  energy  of  this  young  and 
ardent  mind  was  directed  to  the  one  pursuit, 
which  engrossed  all  its  powers.  But  such  is 
always  the  case  with  true  genius. 

It  was  curious  sometimes  to  notice  the 
amusing  expedients  to  which  Monti  was  obliged 
to  resort,  in  the  furtherance  of  his  artistic 
studies,  McKaye  walked  in  one  evening,  and 
found  him  working  away  at  the  home-manu- 
factured easel  ;  the  workmanship  of  the  same 
friendly  hand  whose  mechanical  ingenuity  had 
fabricated  many  a  picture-frame  in  the  old 
school-days.  Seppi,  wrapped  in  a  comical 
sort  of  blanket-drapery,  reclined  in  a  grand 
attitude  on  the  table,  holding  the  candle  above 
his  head,  and  thus  sex'ving  at  once  as  a  model 
and  chandelier,  Archibald  could  not  help 
smiling  at  the  artist  and  his  sitter ;  but  the 
former  was  so  absorbed  that  he  merely  nodded 
his  head,  with  a  "  Well,  Archy !"  Seppi 
looked  as  solemn  as  a  judge,  lest  he  should, 
by  any  change  of  limb  or  feature,  annoy  his 
dear  Signor,  whom  he  verily  believed  to  be 
the  greatest  painter  that  ever  lived. 


A    LECTURE    ON    HIGH   ART. 


155 


Archibald  looked  over  his  friend's  shoulder, 
at  the  studies  which  Cola  was  making  for  a 
picture  which  he  had  continually  in  his  mind. 
Seppi  figured  there  under  all  characters,  and 
in  every  variety  of  drapery.  He  was  a  useful 
mdividual,  and  truly  his  place  was  no  sine- 
cure. 

"  I  'm  getting  on,  you  see,"  said  Monti.  "  I 
shall  begin  the  picture  soon.  When  the  days 
are  longer,  and  the  Academy  is  closed.  It 
-would  not  do  to  give  up  studying  there,  you 

know.     That  good  old  soul,  E ,  was  quite 

right  when  he  advised  me  to  draw  well  before 
I  tried  to  paint.  Stand  out  of  the  light,  please, 
Archy  !  for  I  must  finish  this.  I  might  never 
get  such  a  grand  bit  of  drapery  again.  Keep 
still,  Seppi !" 

And  on  dashed  the  charcoal,  while  McKaye 
sat  watching  the  wonderfully  free  hand  of  the 
young  artist. 

"  How  goes  on  the  wood-drawing,  Cola  ?" 
inquired  he,  after  a  little. 

"Oh,  don't  talk  about  it,  there's  a  good 
fellow !"  answered  the  other  with  an  uneasy 
shrug.  I  've  been  working  away  every  night 
this  week :  I  will  have  a  little  rest,  now,  I 
hope." 


156  STORY    OF    A    GEmVS. 

But  that  very  minute  came  a  knock  at  the 

door,  and  a  parcel  from  Mr. ,  the   same 

good,  ugly-looking  publisher,  who  now  gave 
Cola  regular  employment.  It  contained  half- 
a-dozen  small  blocks,  which  were  immediately 
wanted  for  an  illustrated  edition  of  Goody  Two- 
Shoes. 

Michel  Anorelo  himself  could  not  have  cast 
them  down  with  an  air  of  more  sublime  indig- 
nation than  Cola  Monti. 

''  Now  that  is  too  bad !  is  it  not,  Archy  ? 
When  my  mind  is  full  of  the  picture,  and  I 
want  a  little  leisure  to  work  it  out,  to  have  to 
do  these  contemptible  things  !     I  '11   write  to 

Mr.   ,  and    give  them  up  altogether.     I 

wonder  what  he  means  by  sending  me  such 
nonsense  to  illustrate  !  This  is  the  third  baby- 
book  I  have  had  :  it 's  a  disgrace  to  an  artist !" 

Archibald  had  at  first  felt  strongly  inclined  to 
laugh  ;  but  when  he  saw  how  seriously  annoyed 
his  friend  appeared,  he  changed  his  mind. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  grave  young 
Scotsman,  "  I  don't  consider  it  any  disgrace  at 
all.  The  grand  thing  is  not  what  a  man  does, 
but  how  he  does  it.  I  would  advise  you  to 
take  this  commission,  and  execute  it  to  the  best 
of  your  power. 


A    LECTURE    ON    HIGH    ART.  157 

*'  Nonsense  !  anything  is  good  enough  for 
such  a  mean  task." 

*'  I  do  n't  agree  with  you  there.  Never  sink 
your  genius  down  to  the  level  of  your  work, 
but  elevate  the  work  by  your  genius.  Put  as 
much  talent  as  ever  you  can  into  these  ugly 
little  wood-blocks.  Why,  Cola,  and  Archy's 
face  relaxed  into  its  pleasant  irresistible  smile, 
"  your  very  particular  friend,  Michel  Angelo, 
would  have  made,  with  a  burnt  stick  and  the 
•side  of  a  wall,  a  grander  work  than  some  mod- 
ern  artists  could  accomplish  with  yards  of  can- 
vas,  and  oceans  of  paint.  See  if  you  cannot 
do  the  same  in  your  small  way.  Try  and  be 
the  Michel  Angelo  of  wood-designers." 

Cola  laughed  in  spite  of  himself.  "  Bravo, 
Archy !  your  Aphorisms  on  Art  would  rival 
Hazlitt's :  where  did  you  learn  it  all — at  Bread- 
Street?" 

McKaye  did  not  look  in  the  least  offended, 
he  knew  Cola  too  well.  "I  was  not  born  at 
Bread-Street,  remember !"  said  he,  quite  glad 
to  see  that  his  words  had  calmed  the  storm  a 
little.  "  That  is  only  the  work-a-day  half  of 
me  which  is  kept  among  the  cotton-bags  ;  the 
other  half,  and  the  best,  belongs  to  the  High- 
land   hills.     I    gathered    up   all   my   wisdom 

14 


158  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

there.  And  besides,"  added  he  more  seriously 
*'  I  think  I  am  all  the  better,  dear  Cola,  for 
having  you  near  me,  to  keep  me  from  sinking 
into  a  regular  money-getting  city-fellow,  and 
to  put  me  in  mind  of  the  higher  and  more 
beautiful  things  of  life.  My  dull  plodding  ex- 
istence would  be  duller  still,  if  I  had  not  an 
artist  for  my  friend,  even  though  he  is  a  wild 
young  genius  like  Cola  Monti. 

"  Who  storms  and  rages,  and  will  not  listen 
to  reason  on  any  account  whatever,  for  which 
he  is  heartily  ashamed  of  himself,  Archy," 
cried  the  other,  with  a  hearty  hand-clasp,  that 
atoned  for  all. 

"But,  who  is  yet  the  best  fellow  in  the  world, 
which  fact  is  ready  to  be  maintained  in  single- 
combat  against  any  individual  who  denies  the 
fact,  by  his  old  friend,  quiet,  steady-going  Ar- 
chibald McKaye.  But  come,"  added  the 
young  Scotsman,  "  here  we  are  keeping  poor 
Seppi  in  his  grand  attitude,  and  one  can't  lie 
long  as  a  wounded  warrior  without  getting  the 
cramp  ;  besides,  a  small  piece  of  blanket  dra- 
pery is  not  quite  so  warm  as  coat  and  trousers. 
Make  haste.  Cola !  finish  your  study,  and  then 
see  how  much  of  your  beloved  High-Art  you 
can  put  into  Goody  Two-Shoes." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SHOWING    THAT    PROSPERITY    HAS   ITS   DANGERS. 

Cola's  foiiunes  improved  slowly,  but  surely. 
He  migrated  from  the  shabby  lodging  at  Isling- 
ton, two  miles  further  north,  where  his  favorite 
Hampstead  breezes  could  blow  in  at  the  rose- 
scented  window  of  his  little  painting-room  ; — 
for  he  had  arrived  at  the  dignity  of  two  rooms, 
with  a  closet  for  Scppi.  This  same  faithful 
attendant  had  risen  in  the  world  alons;  with  his 
master.  Seppi's  velveteen  jacket  had  given 
place  to  good  plain  attire,  and  his  clear  boy's 
voice  was  no  longer  heard  singing  in  the  dark 
wintry  streets.  He  was  acquiring  an  educa- 
tion too,  commenced  at  the  Italian  school  which 
that  good  man,  Joseph  Mazzini,  first  established 
for  his  poor  wandering  countrymen  ;  Cola,  in 
his  few  leisure  hours,  completing  the  work 
thus  began,  and  making  quite  a  clever,  well- 
informed  youth  of  his  little  servant. 

During  this  long,  weary  probation  of  deep 
poverty,  the  young  artist  had  never  known 
what  it  was  to  have  a  shilling  to  spend  or  any 
intellectual  amusement : — books,  picture-gal- 
leries, theatres,  all  those  harmless  recreations 


160  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

which  to  a  mind  of  his  stamp  arc  ahnost  indis- 
pensablc,  were  wholly  unattainable.  Now  he 
began  to  enjoy  a  few  of  them  with  that  intense 
appreciation  and  delight,  which,  in  a  nature 
highly  sensitive  and  finely  moulded,  is  much 
keener  than  in  ordinary  characters.  But  all 
his  pleasures  were  taken  in  moderation,  and 
even  sober  Archy  McKaye,  who  cared  little 
about  such  things  himself,  merely  shook  his 
head  once  or  twice  at  first,  and  then  acknowl- 
edged there  was  no  harm  in  a  little  amuse- 
ment now  and  then. 

"  Only  remember,  work  before  play  !"  was 
his  gentle  admonition,  repeated  perhaps  a  de- 
gree oftener,  as  the  spring  of  Cola's  second 
year  in  London  advanced,  and  the  young  ar- 
tist was  busily  engaged  in  that  important  work 
— his  first  Academy  Picture.  It  was  indeed 
the  grand  crisis  of  his  life,  as  he  and  Archi- 
bald well  knew  •  and  when  the  painting  ad- 
vanced, its  progress  formed  the  chief  topic  of 
conversation  with  them  both.  Archy  was  al- 
most as  anxious  as  his  friend,  and  Cola  often 
laughingly  told  him  he  was  getting  quite  a  critic 
and  connoisseur  in  Art.  Indeed,  the  two  school 
mates  were  assimilating  more  and  more,  and  as 
neither  made  any  other  warm  friendship,  theirs 
grew  into  an  almost  brotherly  affection. 


PROSPERITY    HAS    ITS    DANGERS.  161 

At  last,  to  alter  the  even  current  of  their 
lives,  came  chance,  in  the  shape  of  a  third  old 
school-mate. 

Cola  and  Archy  were  riding  from  the  cit^ 
together,  in  that  very  unromantic  conveyance 
an  omnibus.  It  was  after  the  hour  when  city- 
people  throng  in  such  numbers  from  their  little 
dens  of  offices  to  the  welcome  air  even  of  Is- 
lington and  Camden  Town,  consequently  our 
two  friends  were  the  only  passengers.  How 
6ver,  a  third  soon  came  in  ; — a  youth  who  was 
evidently  trying  his  utmost  to  seem  a  man,  by 
means  of  the  most  stylish  dress  possible  ;  a 
small  apology  for  a  moustache,  apparently 
zealously  cultivated,  a  cane,  and  an  eye-glass. 
This  latter  he  used  to  scan  his  fellow-passen- 
gers with  an  air  of  careless  indifference,  which 
soon  changed  to  undisguised  surprise. 

"  'Pon  my  life,  that 's  odd  !  Shake  hands,  old 
fellow  !  for  I  '11  bet  anything  you  are  the  very 
identical  Archy  McKaye." 

"  And  you  're  Morris  Woodhouse  !  Who 
would  have  thought  of  meeting  you  here  ?" 
was  the  cordial  answer.  "Why  here  are  three 
of  us,  old  school-fellows  :  don't  you  remember 
Cola  Monti  ?" 

"  What !  is  that  my  old  enemy,  little  King 
14* 


162  STORY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

Cole  ?     Give  us  your  paw,  my  boy  !     How 
you  are  altered !" 

And  a  hearty  greeting  passed  between  the 
youths  ;  for  at  all  times  one  is  glad  to  meet 
old  school-mates,  and  revive  old  associations. 
Then  they  began  to  talk  ;  Morris  rattling 
away,  with  a  curious  mixture  of  his  former 
boyish  frankness,  and  his  newly-acquired  col- 
lege affectations. 

"  Came  up  from  Cantab  to  see  the  old  gov- 
ernor, who  took  it  in  his  head  to  be  near  going 
off,  like  this,"  and  Woodhouse  snapped  his 
fingers.  "  But  he  changed  his  mind — got 
better ;  so  I  left  him,  and  ran  up  here,  to  see 
a  little  of  town-life  before  the  vacation  's  out. 
It  don't  signify  much  to  the  governor;  he's 
quite  childish  now." 

Archy  looked  surprised,  and  rather  disgusted, 
but  the  hopeful  "  only  son  and  heir"  went  on 
describing,  with  great  gusto,  the  pleasures  of  a 
college-life,  as  it  presents  itself  to  young  gen- 
tlemen of  large  expectations.  Still  there  was 
a  ready  wit  and  talent  about  Morris  Wood- 
house,  that  made  him  a  most  amusing  com- 
panion :  Cola,  especially,  was  attracted  by  his 
dashing  and  clever  chat,  for  it  could  hardly  be 
called  conversation. 

"  And  now,  my  lads,  how  goes  the  world  with 


PROSPERITY    HAS    ITS    DANGERS.  163 

you  ?"  said  Morris,  pausing  for  the  first  time 
to  think  about  some  one  beside  himself.  "  You 
have  turned  merchant,  as  I  hear,  McKaye  ; 
given  up  Latin  and  Greek  for  ledger  and  count- 
ing-house. Pleasant,  is  n't  it  ?"  And  the  young 
collegian  made  a  half-contemptuous  grimace. 

"  1  don't  like  it,  but  it  must  be  done,"  an- 
swered  Archibald,  steadily  and  unmoved.  "  I 
work  very  hard  at  Bread-Street,  and  I  'm  not 
ashamed  of  it  either." 

"  Oh,  no !  of  course  not,"  said  Morris,  a 
little  confounded.  "  And  King  Cole,  what 
have  you  turned  to  ?  Made  any  nice  little 
arrangements  with  the  counts,  your  cousins, 
and  the  princes,  your  ancestors,  eh  ?" 

"  I  am  an  artist,"  replied  Cola,  somewhat 
proudly,  and  with  a  heightened  color. 

"  Well,  I  never !  So  that  was  the  end  of 
your  sketching  and  caricaturing  !  Who  'd 
have  thought  that  Dr.  Birch  would  have 
turned  out  a  genius  from  among  his  lads. 
And  you  have  really  joined  the  tribe  of  seedy, 
looking  fellows,  with  long  hair  and  turned  down 
collars,  as  I  hear  all  artists  described." 

"  I  trust  I  do  not  come  under  the  category,' 
said  Cola  ;  and  though  somewhat  vexed,  could 
not  help  smiling. 

"  No ;   I  do  n't  see  that  you  do,  exactly," 


164  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

cried  Woodhouse,  elevating  his  eye-glass. 
"  Good-looking  young  man,  dark  hair,  close 
and  curly,  black  neckerchief;  but  what  a  one 
it  is !  AVhy,  Monti,  you  'd  be  hunted  out  of 
college  for  sporting  such  a  rag  !  De — cidedly 
ungentlcmanly !"  and  the  fashionable  youth 
returned  to  his  affected  drawl,  \vhiclj,  to  Cola's 
quick  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  was  really  amusing. 

"  I  hope  I  shall  never  make  a  fool  of  myself 
by  dressing  eitlier  like  a  would-be  artist  or  a 
dandy,  being  too  poor  for  the  latter,  and  having 
a  hearty  contempt  for  the  former,"  observed 
he.  "  One  does  not  measure  a  fellow's  genius 
by  the  length  of  his  hair ;  and  when  a  man 
takes  extraordinary  care  of  the  outside  of  his 
head,  it  is  generally  a  sign  that  he  has  little  or 
nothing  in  the  inside  of  it.  That  is  not  my 
remark,  however ;  't  is  one  of  Archy's  wise 
saws,"  continued  Monti,  with  a  glance  at  his 
friend,  who  was  preparing  to  alight  at  the  end 
of  his  own  street. 

But  Woodhouse  put  in  a  cordial  objection  to 
their  parting  thus,  and  invited  both  his  old  ac- 
quaintances to  dine  with  him. 

"  We  '11  do  it  in  style.  I  've  capital  claret 
at  my  lodgings,  and  cigars,  real  Havannas,  and 
Meershaums  too  :  which  do  you  smoke.  King 
Cole  ?"  said   the   youth,  not  long  out  of  his 


\ 


PROSPERITY    HAS    ITS   DANGERS.  165 

tefciis,  with  thfi  careless,  independent  air  of  one 
who  thought  himself  quite  a  man,  and  a  man 
of  fashion  too. 

"  I  do  n't  smoke  at  all :  I  should  not  like  it 
I  fancy ;  and  besides,  I  am  too  young,"  an- 
swered the  simple-minded  Cola.  At  which 
Morris  cast  up  his  eyes,  and  rubbed  his  inci- 
pient moustache  with  his  cane,  in  a  silent  ex- 
pression  of  compassionate  wonder. 

"  Well,  you  '11  both  come ;  we  '11  manage 
to  make  a  night  of  it,  somehow  or  other  :  per- 
haps drop  in  at  the  Opera,  which  opens  to- 
night ;  I  've  got  tickets." 

"  That  will  be  delicious,"  cried  the  enthu- 
siastic Italian,  to  whom  a  pleasure  so  rare  con- 
veyed delight  inexpressible.  "  You  will  come, 
Archy  ;  only  this  once  !" 

But  Archy  had  to  be  at  Bread-Street  by 
nine  :  his  quiet  regular  habits  were  not  easily 
broken  in  upon  ; — also,  he  was  not  very  much 
fascinated  with  the  society  of  Morris  Wood- 
house,  and  never  cared  to  visit  the  Opera.  A 
friendly  discussion  ended  in  his  bidding  adieu 
to  both,  and  taking  his  way  to  the  dull  abode 
of  Mrs.  Jones.  Only,  as  he  jumped  out  of  the 
omnibus,  he  managed  to  whisper  to  his  friend — 

"I  say,  Cola,  take  care  of  yourself:  don't 
forget  the  picture  !" 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A    TIME     OF     DARKNESS. 

The  picture  did  indeed  stand  a  chance  of 
being  forgotten,  or  at  least  neglected.  Cola 
tried  to  set  to  work  again  on  the  next  day, 
but  it  was  in  vain  ;  he  was  too  tired  to  paint. 
He  had  come  home  at  three  in  the  morning ; 
not  indeed  after  any  excesses,  for  Cola's  nature 
was  too  refined  and  pure  to  allow  him  ever 
to  become  either  a  glutton  or  a  wine-bibber. 
But  he  had  supped  with  Morris  after  the 
opera,  and  then  had  to  walk  home  three  miles, 
through  a  bleak  March  night.  He  reached  his 
lodgings,  his  brains  still  dizzied  by  the  fumes 
of  cigars,  and  his  frame  thoroughly  chilled 
and  exhausted  with  bodily  fatigue,  after  men- 
tal excitement.  He  scolded  poor  Seppi  for 
having  gone  to  sleep  and  let  the  fire  out,  and 
then  went  wearily  to  bed.  He  rose,  not,  as  was 
his  custom,  with  the  lark,  that  sang  merrily 
over  the  Highgate  fields,  but  with  the  baker's 


A    TDIK    OF    DARKNESS.        "  167 

cart,  that  never  came  until  twelve  a.  m.  The 
picture  had  little  attractions  this  morning. 

He  sat  before  it ;  the  palette,  which  Seppi 
regularly  set,  getting  dryer  and  dryer.  His 
head  ached,  his  hand  was  unsteady  ;  he  found 
fault  with  what  he  had  already  done,  and  yet 
felt  too  stupid  to  improve  it.  At  last  he  began 
to  think  it  was  no  use  working  that  day,  and 
would  turn  out  for  a  walk.  But  before  he  had 
summoned  the  resolution  necessary  to  take  hat 
and  gloves,  a  visitor  came  in :  it  was  Morris 
Woodhouse. 

"  Really,  old  fellow,  how  knocked  up  you 
look  !  Flow  d'  ye  feel,  eh  ?  As  if  you  had 
eaten  an  apple-dumpling,  and  it  had  got  in 
your  head  ?"  suggested  the  young  Cantab,  in 
his  usual  elegant  diction. 

Cola  laughed,  though  he  experienced  a 
slight  sensation  of  shame.  But  this  was  less 
on  account  of  his  last  night's  exploit,  than  of 
its  effects.  He  felt  annoyed  that  he  could  not 
stand  dissipation  as  well  as  the  other. 

"  Come,  do  n't  be  a  girl ;  you  '11  get  used  to 
this  sort  of  work  in  time,"  said  Morris,  with 
a  patronizing  air.  "  On  with  your  hat,  and 
we  '11  take  a  run  down  the  river,  to  Richmond, 
Just  to  freshen  you  up." 


168  STORY    OP    A    GENIUS. 

The  proposal  sounded  most  welcome  to  the 
poor  jaded  boy.  It  was  a  lovely  spring  morn- 
ing ;  the  banks  of  the  river  would  look  beau- 
tiful. Besides,  argued  Cola  to  himself,  an 
artist  must  study  nature  in  the  open  air,  as 
well  as  paint  at  home,  so  it  would  not  be  throw- 
ing away  a  day. 

But  he  did  contrive  to  throw  away  the  day, 
nevertheless,  and  the  next  day  too  ;  for  the 
repetition  of  late  hours  entailed  the  sacrifice 
of  that  precious  morning  freshness  in  body 
and  mind,  without  which  intellectual  labor  is 
but  vain,  or  else  pursued  with  a  struggle  and 
effort  that  risks  both  health  and  peace.  Then 
Sunday  came,  with  Archibald  to  dinner,  as 
usual  ;  but  that  true  and  steady  friend  looked 
gravely  at  the  small  progress  made  in  the  pic- 
ture,  and  Cola  resolved  that  on  Monday  morn- 
ing he  would  "  turn  over  a  new  leaf." 

This  metaphorical  performance  is  one  more 
easily  talked  of  than  done,  especially  to  a  youth 
of  Cola's  temperament — energetic  in  great 
things,  but  feeble  and  vacillating  in  the  smaller 
affairs  of  life.  He  found  the  "  leaf"  to  stick 
very  much  ;  and  at  last  he  determined  not  to 
try  to  turn  it  over  at  all,  until  Woodhouse  was 
gone.     Every  day  the  young  collegian  talked 


A    TIME    OF    DARKNESS.  169 

of  being  off  to  Cambridge,  and  it  was  not  worth 
while  vexing  him  by  refusing  the  continual 
amusements  which  his  somewhat  reckless  gen- 
erosity provided  for  his  old  schoolmate. 

Seven  days  passed — fourteen  : — it  was  the 
last  week  in  March,  that  week  of  all  weeks  to 
the  artist  brotherhood.  Our  poor  Cola  sat 
before  his  unfinished  picture  in  perfect  despair. 
Morris  had  at  last  gone,  and  the  whirl  of 
amusement  over,  the  young  painter  had  time 
to  think  what  it  had  cost  him. 

A  year's  prospects,  perhaps  the  good  fortune 
of  a  life-time,  thrown  away  for  one  short  sea- 
son  of  pleasure  !  He  hated,  despised  himself; 
he  would  have  wrung  his  hands,  and  wept  like 
a  child,  only  he  was  not  alone  ;  Archibald 
stood  behind,  with  an  expression  of  deep  regret 
on  his  calm,  serious  face. 

"It  is  no  use  lamenting.  Cola,"  he  said, 
kindly  ;  "  you  must  try  again  next  year.  The 
picture  could  not  be  finished  now,  if  you  were 
to  work  ever  so  hard." 

"But  it  shall  be  finished!"  cried  Cola, 
almost  frantically.  "  I  will  do  it,  if  I  die 
over  it !" 

McKaye  shook  his  head.  "  My  dear  Cola, 
judging  by  the  rate  at  which  you  used  to  paint, 

15 


170  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

it  would  take  two  or  three  weeks'  work,  and 
you  have  only  ten  days  before  the  day  of  send- 
ing in  to  the  Academy." 

"  I  can  make  them  twenty,  by  adding  the 
nights.  Do  n't  thwart  me,  Archibald  ;  do  n't, 
if  you  ever  cared  for  me  in  your  life !"  he 
added,  pleading  with  a  touching  emphasis.  "  I 
have  been  a  fool,  an  idiot !  I  know  I  have,  but 
I  will  make  up  for  it.  The  picture  must  be 
finished,  or  it  will  drive  me  mad  !" 

And  it  was  finished.  Night  and  day  Cola 
worked,  allowing  himself  only  an  hour  or  two 
for  sleep,  and  scarcely  taking  any  food.  His 
wild  and  desperate  energy  sustained  him  to  a 
decree  almost  miraculous.  Under  the  influ- 
ence  of  this  terrible  excitement  his  powers 
seemed  redoubled  ;  he  painted  as  he  had  never 
painted  before.  Archibald,  evening  after  even- 
ing, walkrd  up  from  Islington,  not  to  talk  or 
reason, — he  dared  not  do  that  in  Cola's  present 
state, — but  to  sit  quietly  in  the  painting-room, 
watching  his  labors,  and  at  times  encouraging 
them  with  a  few  subdued  words  of  praise,  which 
Cola  sometimes  scarcely  heard.  Even  McKaye 
was  astounded  by  the  almost  marvellous  waj 
in  which,  day  after  day,  the  picture  advanced 
to  completion  beneath  the  young  artist's  hand ; 


A    TIME    OF    DARKNESS.  171 

and  as  he  looked  he  could  not  but  acknowledge 
that  there  is  nothing  in  this  world  so  strong,  so 
daring,  so  all-powerful  as  genius. 

The  first  Monday  in  April  came — there  were 
but  four-and-twenty  hours  left ;  Tuesday — 
there  were  but  twelve  !  Seppi  stood  by  with 
the  untasted  dinner,  his  bright  black  eyes  con- 
tinually filling  with  tears.  He  dared  not  even 
speak  to  his  young  master,  who,  with  wild  and 
haggard  looks,  was  painting  still. 

The  clock  struck  six,  as  Cola's  now  tremb- 
ling  hand  put  the  last  stroke  to  his  picture,  and 
sank  on  a  chair. 

"  It  will  do  now,  I  think  ;  it  will  not  disgrace 
me,  at  least." 

"  No  indeed  it  will  not,  dear  Cola  !  It  is  a 
beautiful  picture,"  whispered  the  gentle,  en- 
couraging voice  of  Archy,  who  had  come  direct 
from  Bread-Street,  hither.  "  And  now,  do  have 
some  dinner,  or  what  will  be  better  for  you, 
some  tea." 

"  No,  no,  I  can't  eat ;  we  shall  lose  the  time, 
the  Academy  will  be  shut.  Seppi !  I  must  have 
a  cab,  and  go  there  at  once." 

Archibald  saw  resistance  would  have  been 
vain  and  cruel,  so  he  quietly  suffered  his  friend 
to  step  into  the  cab,  and  followed  him.     All 


172  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

the  long  ride  to  Trafalgar  Square,  Cola  did  not 
utter  a  single  word,  but  sat  motionless  with  his 
picture  in  his  arms.  McKaye  offered  to  hold 
it,  but  the  other  rejected  his  aid  with  a  slight 
motion  of  the  head.  At  last  Cola  relinquished 
this  darling  first-fruits  of  his  genius,  with  a  look 
something  like  of  a  mother  parting  from  a  be- 
loved child,  and  then  sank  fainting  into  his 
friend's  arms. 

That  P'crhf  Cola  Monti  was  in  a  brain-fever. 


CHAPTER   XX. 


JOT    AT    LAST. 


The  poor  young  artist  lay  ill  for  several 
weeks.  Indeed,  during  the  whole  of  April,  he 
never  awoke  to  a  clear  consciousness  of  what 
was  passing  around  him.  His  overtasked 
brain  seemed  to  settle  into  a  dull  torpor  ;  he 
made  no  inquiries  about  his  picture,  and  ap- 
peared to  have  forgotten  all  concerning  it. 
Perhaps,  in  some  respects,  this  state  of  oblivion 
was  fortunate,  as  it  saved  him  from  that  rack- 
ing suspense  which  would  at  any  time  have 
been  torture  to  his  sensitive  mind. 

Cola  was  well  cared  for  during  his  illness ; 
how  could  it  be  otherwise,  with  Scppi  for  nurse 
and  servant,  and  Archy  for  a  friend  ?  They 
both  watched  over  him  with  unceasing  affection, 
the  former  hardly  taking  rest  either  night  or 
day.  At  length  the  poor  invalid  was  able  to  be 
carried  down  stairs  in  McKaye's  strong  arms, 
Seppi  following  after,  bearing  half-a-dozen  un- 
necessary pillows,  and  almost  weeping  with  joy. 


174  STORY    OF    A    GENIUS. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening,  at  the  close  of  April, 
and  the  little  room,  half-parlor,  half-studio, 
looked  very  pleasant,  China-roses  peeped  in  at 
the  window,  and  between  the  casts  which 
adorned  the  mantelpiece,  Seppi  had  placed 
glasses  full  of  spring  flowers.  He  had  taken 
care,  too,  to  arrange  the  various  legs,  and  arms, 
and  torsi  of  plaster  in  what  he  considered  ex- 
cellent order,  and  the  long-disused  easel  was 
placed  in  one  corner. 

Cola  looked  at  it,  then  round  the  room,  and 
again  at  his  beloved  easel.  He  laid  his  head, 
feeble  as  a  child's,  on  Archy's  shoulder,  and 
burst  into  tears. 

After  this  evening,  his  strength  returned 
rapidly.  He  was  very  gentle  and  patient ; 
did  not  express  much  anxiety  about  his  picture  ; 
indeed,  he  seldom  spoke  of  it,  until  the  opening 
of  the  Exhibition.  Then  he  grew  less  calm, 
and  asked  Archibald,  not  restlessly,  but  with  a 
sort  of  child-like  longing,  when  he  would  let 
him  try  to  get  as  far  as  the  Academy. 
/ 1  know  you  cannot  go,  Archy,  now  that  you 
stay  so  late  at  Bread-Street.  And,  indeed,  I 
hardly  hope  or  expect  that  the  picture  will  be 
in  ;  it  would  be  more  happiness  than  I  deserve ; 
I  who  made  myself  ill  so  wickedly,  and  have 


JOY    AT    LAST. 


175 


given  you  and  poor  Seppi  so  much  care  and 
trouble.     But  still  I  should  like  to  know." 

"  You  shall  know,  dear  Cola  ;  you  shall  go 
as  soon  as  ever  you  are  well  enough.  Be 
content  till  then."  And  with  a  gentleness 
beautiful  to  see,  Archy  soothed  his  friend,  who 
looked  up  to  him  in  everything  with  patient 
dependence. 

Two  or  three  days  after,  McKays  entered, 
his  bright  open  countenance  looking  brighter 
than  ever. 

"  I  shall  take  you  a  ride  this  morning,  Cola," 
he  said,  cheerfully.  "  Those  excellent  old 
souls  at  Bread  Street  have  given  me  a  holiday, 
and  we  '11  spend  it  in  style.  I  have  a  cab  at 
the  door,  so  make  haste  and  get  ready.  And 
Seppi  need  not  muffle  you  up  quite  so  much  as 
he  does,  for  those  lazy  noon-day  daunderings 
up  the  road  ;  you  are  getting  stronger  now, 
you  know." 

"  How  kind  of  you,  Archy  ;  and  to  bring  a 
carriage  too." 

"  Not  quite  so  grand  a  one  as  Sir  Archibald 
McKaye  is  to  drive  you  in  some  of  these  days. 
But  we  '11  have  a  foretaste  of  the  pleasure  now, 
so  jump  in." 

They  drove  round  the  parks,  the  fresh  May 


176  STORY    OF    A    GENITTS. 

breeze  bringing  a  faint  color  to  the  young  art- 
ist's  cheek.  But  when  they  entered  London 
streets  and  stopped  at  the  Academy,  Cola  grew 
pale  and  trembled.  Archy,  kind,  considerate 
Archy,  strange  to  say,  did  not  seem  to  mind 
his  agitation  in  the  least. 

"Be  a  brave  fellow,  Cola,  and  hope  for  the 
best !"  he  whispered,  with  a  cheerful  counte- 
nance, as  he  drew  the  feeble  arm  through  his, 
and  led  his  friend  on. 

"  Tell  me,  Archy,  do  you  know" mur- 

mured  poor  Cola. 

"  I  wont  tell  you  anything  at  all ;  you  shall 
find  it  out  for  yourself,"  was  the  smiling 
answer. 

They  entered  one  of  the  smaller  rooms,  and 
there,  hung  in  a  very  good  light, — the  dear 
image  of  his  precious  picture  looked  down  upon 
the  bewildered  Cola. 

"  You  cut  quite  a  dash  among  the  miniatures  ; 
and  be  very  thankful  that  you  are  kept  out  of 
the  octagon-room — ^the  Black  Hole  that  you 
used  to  talk  so  much  about.  Well,  are  you 
not  ready  to  get  up  and  dance  a  Highland 
reel  ? — a  fandango,  I  mean.  I  could,  I  assure 
you,"  cried  Archy,  trying  in  his  usual  fashion 
to  disperse  with  comicality  the  strong  emotion 


JOY    AT    LAST.  177 

under  which  Cola  labored,  and  from  which  he 
himself  was  not  free. 

They  found  a  seat,  for  the  poor  youth  could 
neither  stand  nor  speak.  Thither,  a  few  min- 
utes after,  came  the  gliding  step  and  low  voice 
of  Mr.  Crome,  who  was  full  of  praises  and  con- 
gratulations. 

"  I  have  some  news  also,  perhaps  better  than 
these  empty  encomiums,"  said  the  rich  court 
artist.  Allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  a  gentle- 
man who  will  purchase  your  picture,  and  com- 
mission a  companion  to  it.  And  though  you 
are  still  a  youth,  let  me  once  more  have  the 
pleasure  of  prophesying,  that  I  know  no  artist 
moi*e  likely  to  rise  to  eminence  than  my  young 
friend  Niccolo  Monti." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this,  Cola?"  cried  Ar- 
chibald, as  they  were  again  alone,  driving 
homewards. 

Cola  folded  his  hands  together,  and  a  wild 
enthusiastic  joy  shone  in  his  dark  upturned 
eves.  "  Thank  God  !  thank  God  !"  was  all  he 
said. 

The  words  consecrated — and  will  consecrate 
— his  whole  life  ! 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE  story's  end,  BUT  THE  REAL  LIFE's  BEGINNING. 

I  HAVE  few  words  more  to  say,  for  Cola 
Monti  is  still  young,  and  it  takes  many  years 
of  patient  and  laborious  study  of  Art,  before 
the  most  talented  youth  can  become  a  great 
painter.  But  the  Italian  is  steadily  following 
in  the  track  which  so  many  noble  men,  perhaps 
the  noblest  on  earth,  have  trod  before  him. 

He  neglects  no  study  that  may  perfect  his 
powers  and  render  him  truly  great,  remem- 
bering that  the  culture  of  genius  should  end 
but  with  life.  You  may  still  see,  drawing  at 
the  Academy,  a  slender,  graceful  young  man, 
with  a  beautiful  Italian  countenance.  Look 
on  his  drawing-board,  and  you  will  find  his 
name — a  name  already  known  in  Art,  though 
he  does  not  disdain  to  let  it  rank  among  the 
humble  students, — "  Niccolo  Monti."  He  has 
wisely  dropped  the  long  word  "  Fiorentino,"  as 
well  as  the  aristocratic  del,  thinking  it  nobler 
to  be  a  great  artist  than  to  count  his  descent 


THE    STORY    EXDS.  179 

from  Italian  princes.  But  perhaps  he  may 
compromise  the  matter  a  little  when  he  goes  to 
Rome  next  year  with  the  ever-faithful  Seppi. 

If  you  were  to  follow  the  young  artist  home, 
you  would  find  him  in  the  same  pretty  cottage, 
somewhere  near  Highgate.     It  is  all  his  own 
now,  though  ;  for  he  is  prosperous  in  his  cir- 
cumstances, and  proves,  rather  to  Mr,  Crome's 
annoyance,  that  a  man  may  paint  great  histor- 
ical pictures,  and  not  starve.     Almost  within 
sight  of  the  artist's  pleasant  home  is  that  of 
the  young  merchant.     Archibald   McKaye  is 
rising  fast  in  the  world,  as  he  was  sure  to  do  ; 
and  amidst  all  his  well-earned  prosperity,  he 
carries   in  his  bosom  the  same  true  Scottish 
heart,    beating     calmly,     silently,     but     how 
warmly,  those  whom  he   loves  and  who  love 
him  can  tell ! — none  better  than  Cola  Monti. 
The  two  friends  did  take  the  projected  High- 
land journey, — though  not  until  last  year, — 
and  the  grand  family  group  was  then  really 
painted.     Every   one   considered    it   a   great 
work  ;  all  but  the  artist,  who  was  never  satis- 
fied  that    he  had  done  justice  to  any  of  the 
heads,  especially  to  sweet    Jessie's.     It   is  a 
valuable  and  dear-loved  picture  now,  for  the 
revered  old  father  has  been  since  gathered  to 


180  STORY    OF   A    GENIUS. 

his  Highland  grave.  Archibald  is  going  to 
fetch  his  mother  and  sister  to  live  with  him  at 
Highgate.  But  it  is  just  possible  that  this  ex- 
cellent arrangement  may  not  hold  out  longer 
than  Cola's  return  from  Rome. 

And  now  let  us  leave  them  both — Archibald 
and  Cola, — leave  them  to  work  out  the  bright 
future  which  is  before  each.  They  will  tread 
divers  paths,  one  walking  calmly,  nobly,  and 
perseveringly,  along  the  beaten  track  of  life ; 
the  other  pressing  on  toward  that  glorious 
destiny  which  will  make  him  renowned  in  his 
day,  and  remembered  afterwards  with  glory, 
Let  them  go  on  their  way,  for  each  is  greatly 
to  be  honored.  One  is  the  Man  of  Industry  ; 
the  other  the  Man  of  Genius. 


THE    ERD. 


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